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My lips are burning from the kiss, my tongue tingling, my body on fire.
He reaches around me, grabbing the door handle and pulling the door open. “After you, madam.”
I laugh as I climb inside, shifting in the leather seat as my panties rub wetly against my lips. “Such a gentleman.”
He stares down at my shifting legs, his jaw tight, his cheek pulsing like an uncaged beast. “It’s impossible to be a gentleman around you, Rory.”
He walks quickly around the car and climbs in the driver’s side, dropping in and pulling away from the curb. “But I’ll try to at least be civilized during our meal. How does that sound?”
“Don’t be too civilized,” I whisper, stunned at my forwardness, but it feels so much easier with Bennet than it ever could with the immature boys in high school.
“Are you asking for another kiss, baby girl?”
I bite my lip, let out a slight moan.
That’s all the answer my man needs.
He stops the car and leans across, slipping his hand onto my leg and gripping my thigh. Our lips collide and we melt passionately into the kiss, as his hand slides higher and higher up my thigh.
He stops at the last second, my core is throbbing and pulsing like crazy, so wet and full of pressure I can hardly take it.
“I need your young perfect body,” he growls. “But not here, not like this. Because if anyone else saw you… I simply can’t let that happen.”
Maybe some women wouldn’t like how protective he’s being so soon.
But I love it.
A smile spreads wide across my face, my belly tingling, as a voice inside tells me dreams really do come true.
Chapter Ten
Bennet
It’s difficult to focus on the road as I drive across the bridge, toward the countryside. The sun has fully set now but the sky is clear, the stars sparkling and the moon shining brighter the further we get from the city.
But the difficulty has nothing to do with the stars or the sky or any of that.
It’s my woman, the dress wrapped around her body, with those wide hips and those voluptuous breasts and every goddamn inch of her carved for my pleasure.
“So, how’s college going?” I ask, squeezing the steering wheel tightly in an effort to hold back the mountain of lust threatening to bury me.
“Really well,” she says. “I love reading and I love talking about books, so it’s a perfect fit. Academic writing is way different to fiction writing, though, so that’s taking some getting used to.”
“Do you still write?” I ask.
She laughs like it’s the silliest question in the world. She has such a musical quality to her voice, singsong and alluring.
“Um, yeah. All the time. But please don’t ask me the question.”
A spear of intensity stabs into my belly, as I think about what the question could mean. For a second I think she means if I’m going to propose to her, and the primal beast inside of me howls yes, howl's do it now, commanding me to fully claim her as soon as possible.
“Okay, I give up,” I say, pushing that thought down as I warn myself to take this slow.
Which is absurdly difficult when I can still taste her on my lips.
“If I’ve actually finished a book.” She giggles.
I glance at her briefly, taking in the sight of her cheeks shimmering in the moonlight, her alluring eyes, and the captivating way she has of smiling.
“I’m guessing that’s a no?” I ask.
“Bingo.” She grins. “I’ve started about a hundred though.”
“So what’s the holdup?”
I turn back to the road, keeping the car steady as we leave the bridge and start down the road that will lead to the countryside and the out-of-the-way location I’ve chosen for our date.
“You say that like it’s easy to write a book,” she murmurs.
“Are you pouting at me?” I chuckle, keeping my eyes on the road. “Because it feels like you might be.”
Her laughter comes easily, a soothing balm that could make any situation better.
A vignette strikes me like a lightning bolt, as I imagine my Rory laughing with our children, all of them caught up in the joy of the moment, with me watching, knowing I’m the luckiest man in the world.
“Maybe,” she says after a pause.
That pause…
It makes me think she was imagining the same thing, even if that’s crazy.
“Are you going to answer my question?” I smirk.
“I get about a quarter of the way into a book and then it’s like everything starts to unravel. But this latest one, I made a promise to myself that I’d finish it no matter what, no matter how I feel. I think my anxiety gets in the way, sometimes.”
“I agree,” I say. “I saw that a lot in the SEALs. Sometimes men let their anxiety guide them, and it ruined them.”
“Well, I don’t want to be ruined,” she says. “So I’m finishing the thing no matter what.”
