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“Yes?”
“I don’t have on any underwear.”
Her eyes shot up.
He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. Slowly his smile faded and his eyes darkened. Sliding away from the steering wheel toward her side of the seat, he cupped her jaw between his hands and lowered his mouth to cover hers.
The instant their lips touched, her body flooded with sensation, and she felt as if every part of her throbbed with new life. His mouth over hers was warm and soft, and she opened to him. The tip of his tongue slid between her lips, and she reveled in the intimacy of taking that part of him inside her body. Wrapping her arms around his strong neck, she touched his tongue with her own. Her top rode up, and he slipped his hands beneath it, just above her waist.
As their kiss deepened, she felt the damp heat of his body through his T-shirt. She sank her fingers into his shoulders and took his tongue deeper into her mouth. The rest of the world disappeared, and only sensation existed. Her lungs began to burn, and she realized she had forgotten to breathe. Drawing back, she gasped for air. He buried his lips in the V of her throat and nipped the delicate bone with his teeth.
“Bobby Tom!” She gasped his name.
“Yes, sweetheart?” His breathing sounded even less steady than her own.
“Can we do it now?”
“No, honey. You’re not nearly ready.”
“Oh, I am. I really am.”
He chuckled, then groaned as his thumbs brushed up along her bare sides. “This is just our warm-up. Come here. Closer.” He lifted her so that she straddled his lap.
As she settled on top of him, she felt him, hard and rigid, trying to push into her right through his jeans and her shorts. “Did I do that to you?” she whispered against his lips.
“About three hours ago,” he murmured.
With a shiver of pleasure, she settled down in his lap. Rubbing her hips against him, she took his mouth.
“Stop,” he moaned.
“You’re the one who wanted to play games,” she reminded him, speaking against his parted lips.
“Sometimes I’m too much of a smart-ass for my own good. God, don’t do that!”
“Do what?” She again rocked her pelvis, wanting all the barriers between them gone.
He grabbed the hem of her top and shoved it up, taking her bra with it. Pushing her back until her shoulders rested against the dashboard, he exposed her breasts.
She let out a cry when he lifted her breast and took the nipple in his mouth. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he suckled her. Her position, straddling him with her knees and leaning back against the dash, was awkward, but her body no longer belonged to her and the unfamiliar strain in her splayed thighs only added to her excitement. She felt the hot suction of his mouth, the throbbing between her legs, the dampness of his thin, worn T-shirt beneath her palms. He shoved his hands beneath her thighs, and his thumbs slid under the legs of her shorts.
Sitting back up, she reached for his T-shirt and pulled it from his jeans, then she fumbled between their bodies for the snap at the top of his strained zipper. It gave, and she worked at the zipper. He had already opened hers, and before she knew it, he had pushed her shorts down to the point where her spread thighs stretched the material too taut to go farther.
The rasp of their breathing filled the cab of the truck. She drew one leg back over his thighs until she was kneeling on the seat next to him and could work at his zipper with both hands. He stripped his T-shirt over his head, knocking the steering wheel with his elbow in the process so that the horn sounded. He cursed, and she dipped for one of his nipples with her mouth as she continued her struggle with the stubborn zipper.
The hard nub bumped her tongue. She abraded it, just as he had done to her, and felt his entire body go rigid.
The zipper gave.
He pushed her away from him just long enough to whip her top over her head and fling it behind the seat. Her bra followed, and she knelt next to him like a pixieish slattern, hair rumpled, a Super Bowl ring hanging between her bare breasts, her unfastened shorts low on her hips.
She gazed down at his open zipper. “It’s too dark,” she whispered. “I can’t see you.” She touched his belly with her fingertip.
“Do you want to see me?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Gracie . . .” He sounded as if he were struggli
