Page 24 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

“To hear Zephyr McAllister admit what she wants. You’ve been pulling away from me.” He pulled the silver tab down further, unzipping it completely. Her knee bounced wildly as Neil slowly pushed aside her jacket, freeing her bare shoulder to the elements. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and then to her throat. Soft, warm, and almost lazy.

It also tickled.

“You’re smug,” she grumbled.

“I have security cameras,” he returned.

“What does that have to do with your smugness?”

“I watched you run down Main Street to get to me.”

Oh, no, she worried. She lied, “I was walking briskly. Because it’s cold outside.”

“Shall we watch the replay?”

She squirmed. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” He nipped at her throat now, and the sharp prick of pain mixed with pleasure was addicting. “Your car’s ready,” he murmured into her skin.

“What?” She could hardly think. She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to wonder if this was going to blow up in their faces, if he would stay for breakfast in the morning, or if he’d be gone before she woke. She wanted—

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, a hand skimming up her right thigh, “and hold on.”

Not thinking was what she had claimed she wanted, so Zephyr obeyed after setting his beer down. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her arms around his neck for good measure as he lifted her off the workbench and carried her over to her car.

His coat protected her skin from the harsh cold of her car hood as he laid her down on top of it. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable as he eased off her knee-high boots.

“Tell me you wore this for me,” Neil whispered, and he sounded a little pleading. He pushed the hem of her dress up over her hips.

She couldn’t stop watching his hands, anticipating where they’d go next. “When I finally decide what I want, why should I wait?”

He asked seriously, “No more running?”

“Not from you,” she promised.

“Good.” He ran his hands up the sides of her legs and yanked her panties down with a few quick motions. But when she sat up to undress him, he pushed her back down. “Not yet. Relax for me.”

An impossible ask. Every nerve felt as if it were on fire. She lay back down, willing her bones to melt into the hood. Every kiss on her thighs sent a jolt through her, but it was all her own doing.

It was also agonizingly slow.

Zephyr did not move slowly. Ever. So, Neil’s languid, soft kisses were driving her absolutely mad. He turned her into such a pleading thing. Zephyr gripped his collar, tugging him closer and nearly whimpering when his pace remained the same.

“Faster,” she begged, her face embarrassingly pink.

“No,” he refused. “I won’t let you rush this.”

Gods, he was taking his time. Always hovering where she really wanted him, but just teasing her with promises. On one hand, she was glad that she had made him feel secure enough that he could take his sweet time with her.

But on the other hand… Zephyr’s other hand knotted into his hair and pulled him forward, centering that teasing mouth directly between her legs.

He met her challenge with a wicked tongue, and he moaned unabashedly every time she pulled his hair or ground against him. For once, she didn’t need to chase her climax. She came hard and loud, and she collapsed with an arm thrown over her eyes as she panted on the hood.

Fighting to see through the stars in her vision, Zephyr struggled to sit up. Neil gently pushed her on her back once more. He ended her confusion in seconds, his mouth returning to between her legs. She bucked against him, startled.

“Neil—”

“I told you, we’re not rushing this. You’re not giving up on me so soon, are you?” His head twisted suddenly as he bit her thigh. She chewed her lip, but that did nothing to stifle her moan. “I thought racers were known for their stamina. You look like you’re about to fall apart.”