But I can’t stop. I’m already addicted to the feel of her possessive tongue rolling against mine. To the press of her seductive body, the firmness of her ass, and the confidence of her lust.
Tiny explosions of desire detonate up and down my tingling skin. I’m on fire. I grip her tighter and kiss her back like a savage man. Every ounce of pent-up aggression and destructive need unleashing.
Dove rips open my shirt, then goes for the button of my jeans. I’m as hard as a motherfucking rock from her grinding against me. We pant, and claw, and nip at each other as we try to maneuver in the cramped space.
She slips her hand into my pants, and when she palms my erection, my senses implode and my vision blurs. Her touch is like lightning. It’s everything. My arousal screams to get out.
“Dove.” I fight for oxygen and some good sense.
“Tate,” she echoes back, clearly lost in an aphrodisiacal moment.
“We need to stop.”
Dove laughs at me.
“I’m serious.” I seize her wrists.
All the sexual tension deflates in the truck.
I can’t see her face, but I can feel her wrath. It’s radiating off her like heat on a slab of scorching hot concrete.
“You are a fucking piece of work.” She punches my chest. “You have been trying to get into my pants since the moment we met, and now when I finally say yes,yousay no? Fuck this shit.” Dove climbs clumsily off me.
“Dove . . .”
She crawls to the passenger side door.
“Dove . . .”
She opens it — and falls out face first.
I sigh aloud.
“Dove . . .” I open the door and raise my voice, catching a glimpse of her stumbling down the walkway under one of the lights.
I give Dove a minute, and myself. I glance down at the raging bull trying to rip through my pants. I take a few deep breaths. I’m so amped up. My whole body alive and wired.
Once I chill out, I follow Dove inside.
I find her slumped outside her door, her keys dangling in her hand. I shake my head.
“Here we go,Tiburona.” I hoist her to her feet and drag her inside. “No biting.”
She only moans. Buckle up for a ride on Hangover Highway.
Once I get her into bed, I pull off her shoes and roll her onto her side. You know, just in case all that tequila wants to make a second appearance.
Leaving her to snore, I close her bedroom door.
I text Stefania:
“The shark is safe.”
10
Dove
Someone is tryingto scoop my brain out of my skull with a spoon.
