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“I want you,” she says, pushing the back of her head into the seat. With one hand, her nails scrape across my back, and her other twists the seat belt around it. “You feel so good.”
She rocks against my hand, our bodies moving as much as they can in the confined space—hands and arms, legs, and heated breath. Everything becomes one as we both teeter toward the cliff.
Nails dig into my skin as I watch her start to fall apart under my ministrations. As she tugs my hair, I revel in her possessiveness, letting her take what she needs from me. When her mouth opens and her eyes roll back in her head, I continue to thrust my fingers while her body trembles around me. My name rolls from her tongue in a plea to fall with her.
I’m so hard, so ready to come, I’m not far behind.
Just as she finds peace in the aftermath, I don’t hold back. She sinks against the seat, her body soft, as I build momentum. Grinding against her leg, I kiss her neck. I brace my hands to the side and keep seeking my own release. I might be raw when my orgasm hits, but it feels so fucking fantastic to come, the tension ripping through every part of me. “Tealey, fuck.”
My upper body sinks into Tealey’s arms, covering as much of her as I can. Doesn’t matter that my legs are cramped to the side and twisted on the floorboard, I close my eyes and savor the feeling of what we just shared.
When her breathing shallows, I push up, balancing vicariously above her. “Shit. Sorry.” I move her hair back from her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive,” she says with a smile. “Anyway, I like to feel the weight of you on me. There’s something so . . .” She looks away. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” A giggle escapes, and she kisses me as if that distraction technique will work.
I regain my strength and try my best to hold her by shifting underneath her. She molds herself to my body, the scent of the beach in her hair, and her breath warming my neck.
“I want to be with you, Tealey,” I say, already knowing that I’ve never felt this connected to another woman before. It’s as though, in such a short space of time, that she’s become my best friend. The one I want to share all things with. Be home early for. Be up to have coffee with. Want desperately in my every day . . . everything.
I think I underestimated my crush. Kissing her temple, I close my eyes and pull myself back together.
She moves to rest her chin on my chest, and whispers, “We are together.”
“More than now. I want to date you. Take you out or stay in. Whatever we decide to do, I want to do it with you.”
I run my fingers through her hair, admiring not only the beauty before me but also the person she is on the inside. Can I be the man she deserves?
My forehead is kissed, and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of her lips. The feel of her nose rubbing against the side of mine has me opening my eyes. “I want that, too.”
Guilt sinks in. “I wanted to romance you, give you flowers, hell, at the bare minimum, a bed.” She grins.
“I don’t need any of those. I just want you.”
A bang on the glass has me jumping and gathering Tealey in my arms. I turn over my shoulder to see a thick, gray mustache under dark eyes and bushy eyebrows. The window is fogged, but his words cut through the glass. “The restaurant is opening soon. You need to leave the premises.”
Tealey scrambles off my lap. Hoping to get the security guard to move along, I say, “Thanks. Will do.”
I can’t reach my shoes, so I wait for Tealey to do what she needs to first. Pulling her skirt down, she asks, “Why did we think this was a good place to . . . Heavy pet?”
I start chuckling. “Heavy pet?”
“Make out? Get off? Whatever you want to call it.”
Reaching over her, I pop the glove box but don’t see any wipes. Checking the console, I find a Valentine’s Day pack of tissues. Seems fitting and will have to do. We both do a quick cleanup. We’re both fully dressed so it only takes a moment to collect ourselves and fix our appearance. I can’t care that I’m a sticky mess, not when I’m a mess because of Tealey.
I steal a glance at her, my heart attaching in new ways—protective, selfish . . . A four-letter word that starts with L comes to mind.
Like.
I can handle that. She turns back and whacks me on the chest. “Get a move on before I die of embarrassment.”
