And fuck…that gets me going too—the way she holds her ground against me. Everything about her is too arousing. I dip my face to hers again. “I’d never suggest such a terrible thing,” I rasp out, then I go for a cheap shot. I brush my lips to her neck.
To the spot that drives her wild.
Her breath hitches. She stretches her neck. Invites more of my kisses. Moans. Murmurs. Sighs. Then grips my tie harder like she’s holding on for dear life.
I travel up to her ear, whispering, “Just like I remembered.”
Her shoulders shudder, and she sounds buzzed as she asks, “Yeah? What did you remember?”
“How good you taste. Your cinnamon scent. The way you melt when I kiss your neck,” I murmur against her soft skin, kissing the column of her throat now.
“It’s my lotion. It’s from Kind. All my lotions are. And bodywashes. I love them,” she says, breathless, babbling as she mentions the brand too, like I needed to know that. It’s sexy, though, the fact that she’s not thinking clearly enough to edit her thoughts. She’s just rambling as I kiss her. And it feels like a peek behind the curtain into her feminine world.
“Drives me crazy,” I say as I travel back up her neck, finding her mouth once more and sealing my lips over hers.
She claws at my shirt as I kiss her. I thread my hands through her hair. The song ends. The car’s quiet for a beat, the only sounds the rustling of clothes, the slide of our mouths, the staccato breaths.
When the next Sam Cooke tune begins, I stop pretending I’m willing to let this night end in the car. I break the kiss, run my thumb across her top lip, then nod toward her home. “What’s it going to be?”
She nibbles on the corner of her bee-stung lips. That just-been-kissed look is real good on her. “What are you offering?”
“You want me to surprise you again, Chloe?” A tremble seems to rush through her. I can hardly wait another second. “Let me come inside, sweetheart.”
“Oh god,” she says, swallowing hard, then nodding like she can’t stop saying yes.
I’m out of the car in no time, striding over to her door right as she’s pushing it open, then picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder.
“Why are you always carrying me?” she asks, but it’s playful, her question.
“Because you like it.”
“You’re such a cocky ass.”
“Did you say you wanted me to smack your ass?” I roam my hand over the lush curves as I carry her up the steps.
“Just shut up and fuck me.”
Yep, this has bad idea written all over it, and I’m doing it anyway. “Ask and it shall be given unto you,” I say as I reach the door and set her down so she can open it.
She punches in a combo of numbers but stops short before hitting Enter, her hand hovering over the keypad. As she turns to me, her eyes swim with vulnerability, and maybe embarrassment. “It’s tiny. My house,” she says. “I mean. It’s not even mine. It’s…a rental.”
She sounds almost ashamed of her situation, and I’m not entirely sure what to say to assuage her concerns. I take a beat to devise a thoughtful response when she adds, “And there are rubber ducks on my coffee table. It’s a whole thing.”
My brow knits, and I’m suddenly dying to know about theducks. But the ducks are beside the point. “Chloe, your house has a dog—it’s home. That’s all that matters. I’m sure it’s perfectly you.”
She snorts out a laugh, then shrugs. “That’s true.”
She swings open the door and Captain whimpers a happy hello, spinning in a circle in greeting. “I need to let him out,” Chloe says the second the door shuts.
I want to return to the bad idea and get my hands all over her, but nature calls. And clearly, it’s calling for Captain—he’s racing toward the back door, a whine in his throat.
“I’ll do it,” I offer.
“You sure?”
“I’ve got this,” I say, swatting her ass on my way to the door. But as soon as my hand hits the knob, reality smacks me in the chest. “Shit, I don’t have a condom,” I mutter, opening the door and letting the dog out.
He bolts into the tiny yard, makes a beeline for a tree, and lifts his leg.
