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She did neither. “You were always good at math.”
“You were, too.”
“I was outstanding at math,” she said.
“Chemistry, too,” he said. “I know you’ve always made me feel like I could spontaneously combust, even if it’s not possible without an accelerant.”
“Maybe I’m the accelerant.” Her lashes lowered, and then she peered up at him, giving him a look so hot that he did indeed believe she was the accelerant. She lifted her chin, leaning into him. Their breath mingled. He felt her hand touch the outer edge of his, then one of her fingers caressed his, and he almost moaned.
“Summer,” he said hoarsely.
She brought his hand up to her mouth, kissing the center, and then nibbling her way across his knuckles. “In biology, I learned that a man has more nerve endings in his hand than a woman.” She sucked a finger into her mouth and nipped at the tip.
Sensation flooded his body, straight from the tip of his finger to his dick. His c**k swelled. He couldn’t help it, nor did he try to hide it.
“Is that true?” she asked around that very lucky digit.
“Feels like it.” He fought for control when she took another finger into her mouth, sucking it down to where it joined to the last knuckle. He could only imagine what that would feel like in other places. Another rush of lust jolted him. “Please.”
“Are you begging me to show you what I do with all those gentleman callers?” she asked, and he was too turned on to take exception.
But a flash of clarity assured him that no matter how he answered it would be wrong, so he pulled her to him, straight into his lap, and lifted her chin. Then he kissed the daylights out of her.
But was either of them content with that? Not in the least.
Summer straddled his lap, putting his hands on her butt. He cupped her there, groaning at the feel of her firm, plump flesh. Then she moved, rocked her hips in such a way that his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“What are you—?”
She silenced him with a kiss, still rocking her hips against the length of him, and dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“As good as it did the last time you did this,” he said, somehow remembering them as teenagers, parked in his truck, with her riding his lap for all she was worth. Neither of them had taken off the last of their clothes, but they’d come pretty close. They’d come pretty close to giving everything to each other.
“I’m much better now,” she said throatily. “All that practice, you know.”
If she wanted to lie, then so could he. “Me, too. Can’t tell you how many women I’ve let ride me like this. They’ve always gone home happy, too,” he said, helping her move now. He gripped her ass, pulling down and pushing against her. Every glide made him hotter, flamed the lust and desire that he’d been holding in check for as long as he could remember.
“I don’t have on a bra this time,” she gasped.
He nipped her lip. “I noticed.”
“You did not.” She nipped his in return. “You’re too much of a gentleman to look that close.”
“I’m up close and personal now.”
“If I promise to keep moving, would you want to touch me t—”
His hands were up her shirt before she could finish her sentence, eyes closing in pure pleasure. She filled his hands, her ni**les beading against his palms.
“Oh God. That’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he whispered. She rocked harder, making his eyes open and his breath grow ragged. “We have to stop.”
“But I thought you wanted to be entertained,” she said, lips brushing his ear. “I thought you wanted to make me as happy as all those women you let ride you like this.”
Fabric slid against fabric, the thin material of her pajama bottoms and his khaki pants making it possible for him to feel everything. He flicked her nipple with the pad of his thumb in response, and she made a little noise.
“Like that?”
“Do it again, and I’ll tell you.”
The couch began to squeak with their efforts, and her br**sts started to bounce. He flicked her ni**les with his thumbs, one at a time, while maintaining an iron grip on his control. No way would she make him come in his pants like some teenager… like she had when they were teenagers.
She ground down harder against him, and her head fell back. Unable to stop himself, he shoved up her shirt, licked her nipple, and then sucked it deep inside his mouth, watching her.
Summer’s face flushed, her lids lowered, and her lips parted. He had never seen such a beautiful sight. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, teasing the tops of his hands. The silky strands caressed his face.
“Soft, so soft,” he murmured.
He sucked harder, used his teeth, and then did the same to the other one, more than satisfied when she ordered him to do it again. Then he grabbed her waist and shoved up, sending his c**k in direct contact with her heat. He wanted her. He wanted inside her. He wanted to take her and take her, and never let her go. He wanted to be the last man she ever kissed—the last man she ever made love to.
Quite simply, he loved Summer Holland and would always love her.
“Gabriel,” she cried, and he went over the edge with her.
Summer stopped rocking, unable to comprehend what they’d just done. Unable to believe what he allowed her to do to him.
Her own orgasm had been hard and fast, twisting up her body until it had finally let her go while his…Oh, God.
Reality had returned, and she wanted to die.
Gabriel blinked up at her, his dark blue eyes still glazed over, but when they cleared, he was going to be pissed at her. He was going to say to hell with her plans, and go on about his way. She’d practically had sex with him, on a couch, in front of the windows where anyone could have walked by, and they sure as heck weren’t married, much less engaged.
What would people think of him, if they were caught?
Sure, it was almost eleven now, and the streets were deserted, but it would be just her luck that some busybody would see them. She could stand gossip about herself, but the man who held her—never.
“I’m sorry.” His gaze lowered, as did hers, right to the wet spot on his pants. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and her gaze flicked up to his face. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
She watched his cheeks grow red. “I’ll get you a towel,” she said lamely.
“I need a shower, and possibly your washer and dryer,” he said with a chuckle.
