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He lowered his mouth to mine for a deep, hungry kiss before he curled his arm around me and swung me up to straddle him again. I braced myself on his shoulders and the angle was everything.
Intense. Infuriatingly intimate.
He reached up to grip my hair. “Rylee, I…”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and covered his mouth.
I didn’t want to know if it was more. If the word that scared me most was on the tip of his tongue. It would be worse if it wasn’t.
I sobbed into his mouth as his hands transferred to my hips. He pulled me down tight against him as he pulsed up inside me. The friction between us drove me over. I embraced the orgasm. I understood the chemistry between us. It was hormones, pheromones, and Gage was an insanely hot guy.
He held me tight as he came.
It was a new feeling. Safety was usually my number one concern. And yet this guy still had managed to get around a condom that first night we’d been together. Making the conscious effort to skip it was freeing and also made me realize it came with an extra drawback.
Cleanup.
I winced as he slid out of me, but instead of allowing it to get awkward, Gage stood up with me and stalked over to the bathroom. “I think a shower is in order.”
I gripped his shoulders. “It’s not a big shower.”
“We’ll make it work.”
And we did. It included a lot of bumping and some cold spots while the two of us soaped up and tried to rinse off.
But I also got to get a look at him without the fogginess of lust. The strong shoulders and tapered waist. The number forty-four tattooed under his bicep, rather than on the outside of his arm like most guys did. It was prominent when he lifted his arm over his head to wash his hair.
I crowded into him, the stream of water sliding over his neck onto my chest. “Why did you leave racing?”
He kissed my nose. “It wasn’t fun anymore.”
“Pretty sure a job has times where it’s not fun.”
“I hit every goal I’d set out to do. I won races multiple times. Sponsors started jerking me around, wanting me to do crazy commercials and tell me what to wear.” He ducked his head under the spray until the shampoo foamed around his shoulders and between us. He took my washing mitt and smoothed away the suds, adding my shower gel until there was nothing but the wildflower scent filling the steamy room.
“And that’s it?”
“Pretty much. I drove across country because I’d said I always wanted to, but it was lonely. And seeing all the incredible places like the Grand Canyon and wineries in California didn’t mean much when I was doing it by myself. Then my Camaro died.”
“Really? Aren’t you driving a Camaro now?”
“Bite your tongue. Stingrays are most certainly not the same. Especially to my baby who’s now sitting in a storage unit.”
“Terribly sorry. One penis car is the same is the next.”
“You wound me, woman.”
I slid my hand down to cup him. “Like I said before, you don’t feel like you need to compensate for a little—”
His eyes flashed. “Watch it. Don’t start that if you don’t want me to finish it.”
I grinned up at him. “Promises, promises.”
“Oh, huntress. I’ll turn you around and fuck you right into the tiled wall.”
“Works for me.” I gave him a firmer stroke. It was easier to do this than tell him I wouldn’t mind being the passenger in his car. I’d never been farther than upstate New York and the occasional school trip when I was a kid.
He grinned. “I just bet.”
