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He knew it. He sank his teeth into her lower lip, trapping it, bestowing a quick, hard bite and not bothering to hold back a growl of satisfaction when she grabbed two handfuls of his shirt front and silently begged for more. He gave her more, doling out similar treatment to her upper lip. A hungry sound snuck past her throat to reverberate around the confines of the car and brought his mouth slamming down on hers with renewed urgency. Need ignited her blood. She couldn’t keep still. Their kisses grew faster, hungrier, far less precise.
He skimmed his hand under her sweater and along her spine. Fingers followed the line of her bra, a question inherent in the touch.
Yes, some wild part of her responded immediately. She arched closer, hoping the gesture would be all the discussion required.
“Use your words, baby girl.” He traced the elastic again.
“Goddammit,” she muttered between kisses. She wanted more of this—the heat and the rush. What she definitely didn’t want was for him to say or do anything to slow things down and give her time to reconsider. Going with impulse, she tightened her hold on the front of his shirt and yanked.
Buttons ricocheted against the dash, and the fabric gaped to the middle of his chest.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he rasped. His hands came up to cover hers, stilling them as she prepared to take a second tug. Quickly, he pulled his shirttails free of his pants. “Go on. Do your worst.”
Her second effort got the job done, but she didn’t spare a moment on the accomplishment. She claimed her reward, running her palms over the hard expanse of smooth, warm skin. She didn’t know where to touch first but found herself visiting familiar highlights like the lines of his collarbones and the shallow channel between his pecs. She lingered there, spreading her fingers and raking her nails through the dusting of hair now shading his chest. Would it tickle her lips? Her breasts? Before she could contemplate the questions too deeply, her hands discovered other terrain and veered downward to learn every irresistible contour of his abs. They rippled under her touch, and her mouth went dry.
“My turn,” he growled and slid both hands under her sweater. The wool bunched up as he bracketed her rib cage. His fingers settled into the channel between her shoulder blades. His thumbs swept the smooth skin just below her bra. “Let me touch you.”
She might die if he didn’t. With his big hands supporting her, she hung on to his strong arms and arched her spine. Her head fell back. Her breath caught as he nudged her sweater over her breasts and lowered his head. Warm breath teased her nipple through the mesh of her bra. Her heart thumped in response, so loud the sound seemed to echo around them.
The noise came again, louder. Thump. Thump. Thump. S
hane let out a curse, and that’s when she realized the noise really was echoing around them. Before she could process that realization, he tugged her sweater down and dropped her into her seat. She was still trying to catch her breath when he lowered the fogged driver’s side window just enough to reveal Sheriff Kenner standing on the other side, the grip end of his flashlight raised to tap the glass again.
“Is there a problem?” Shane asked, sounding more irritated than contrite.
Kenner took them both in and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer, seeing as how you’re both old enough to tell time. Get a room”—his calm, seen-everything stare switched to her—“or a barn. Just get. The park closed at sunset.”
“Yes, sir,” Shane answered and started the car. Defrost blasting, they buckled their seat belts. Kenner backed up a few steps, waiting in the glare of the Rover’s headlights as Shane put the Rover in reverse. He executed one of those quick, efficient three-point turns that took a Y chromosome to pull off and steered the SUV past the thank you for visiting sign.
Thank you for visiting, and don’t forget to retrieve your better judgment on the way out. When they hit the main road, she released a breath. “Well, that was fun.”
Shane laughed and shot her a knowing look. “You had fun.”
His rumpled hair, open shirt, and bad boy grin got the better of her. She felt her lips lifting. “Maybe a little.” Which sounded stingy when, in fact, she was a woman who liked her fun. She’d had plenty—with the chef in Manhattan, or the advertising exec in Los Angeles, or the photographer in Charleston—she simply preferred to keep her fun at a safe distance. Recent growth notwithstanding, Magnolia Grove was still a small town at its core. Gossip spread like wildfire, and people weren’t shy about stating their opinions. She liked her private life private.
Lucky for her, she was an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of girl. Shane had been the one to teach her that lesson, and it had been a killer, coming from him, but since then she’d worked it to her advantage. She enjoyed Manhattan, Los Angeles, and Charleston on her terms, left with a smile on her face, and a call me next time you’re in town ringing in her ears. She didn’t inspire anything deeper from men, and she wasn’t looking for it. Casual and long-distance suited her perfectly, because she didn’t need Kenner, or Mrs. Pinkerton, or least of all her parents, calling plays from the sidelines of her love life.
“I had fun, too.” He kept his eyes on the road but absently reached over and took her hand.
She watched like a bystander as he threaded his fingers through hers and then rested their joined hands on the center console. Hers looked small and delicate cradled in his larger, stronger palm. Holding hands—another one of those pastimes that somehow got left by the wayside in the transition from teenager to adult. The men she had fun with these days weren’t expecting to hold her hand. Or go for a drive. Or languish for an evening exploring the agonizing wonderland between all-or-nothing.
His fingers tightened, giving hers a quick squeeze. “The fun doesn’t have to be over. There are a thousand detours on this journey. We haven’t even gotten close to some of my favorites.”
Her hormones bounced and clapped at the thought, but a glance at the glowing numbers on the dashboard clock forced her to tell them to simmer down. “Yeah, it does. My dad’s coming over tonight to help me change the furnace filter.” Of course, she’d had an ulterior motive when she’d accepted her dad’s offer. Having to be home by eight ensured a hard stop on her tour guide duties for the evening, but now she grappled with a troubling mix of want and disappointment she hadn’t counted on. Jesus, her head was a mess.
“I know how to change a filter.”
“And how would having you do that help my dad escape the house while my mom hosts the monthly meeting of the Magnolia Grove Historic Society?”
“Ah. I see your point.” Surprisingly, he didn’t disentangle their hands. “Next time.”
Now would be the opportunity to restore some order to her messy head, and a woman who knew what was good for her would take it. She cleared her throat. “Um. About next time…”
“Watch what you say. You made a deal, baby girl.”
“Don’t ‘baby girl,’ me. I agreed to show you around, not—”
“And you have. I’m trying to get reacquainted with the town, as well as gathering knowledge I need to do my job. That was always the plan.”
