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“Patently untrue.”
“So why are you staring at my lips?”
Damn it. I flick my gaze back up to his laughing eyes, but I know I’ve already lost.
How did this happen? How did we get here? I was supposed to keep my distance. I was supposed to treat him like a professional partner in this competition, then move on. Somehow, his sister is staying at my place and I’m wrapped up in his arms on the side of the road.
And I like it.
Then the pressure of his hand on my nape increases, and without giving me a moment to process what’s happening, Fallon pulls me in for a hard kiss.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss Fallon. To have his firm, unyielding lips on mine. To feel him groan against my mouth as his body grows tense around mine. To be so wrapped up in him that I forget the world exists beyond the confines of his arms.
Once my lips are thoroughly ravished, Fallon pulls away and looks at me through heavy lids, satisfaction curling his lips.
“What was that for?” I ask, breathless.
“Two reasons,” he says, his hand cupping my face. “First, as a thank you for everything you did for my sister tonight.” A gentle kiss on my lips. “And second”—another brush of his lips, like he can’t help himself—“because I’ve wanted to kiss again for a whole damn year.”
We pause, tension stretching between us. I gaze into his brown-black eyes, realizing I’ll get lost in them. In him.
And maybe…I want that.
Pulling him closer, it’s my turn to kiss Fallon hard—because the truth? The truth is, I’ve been dreaming of this for a year too.
Fallon crushes his lips against mine, his kiss claiming. Possessive. He nips at my bottom lip, his hand sweeping higher under my shirt to my mid-back. When Fallon kisses me again, his tongue delves into my mouth and another groan is ripped from his throat. I answer with a whimper.
That’s when the hand around my waist moves to my front, palming my small breasts with his big, hot hand. I gasp, my nipples going hard in an instant, my body on fire.
This is what kissing Fallon does to me. It cranks me so tight I can’t think. Can’t breathe. All I can do is shove my hands into his thick, black hair, parting my lips to kiss him harder. His beard feels rough against my skin as he breaks the kiss and nips at my earlobe, my neck. When his tongue slides out to taste my skin, I let out a shaking breath.
His hand kneads my breast, his thumb making delicious, mind-melting circles over the stiff peak. When I shift my body, his steel-hard shaft presses against my hip.
“Missed this,” Fallon says, pushing me down so I’m leaning against the door, my legs stretched out toward the passenger seat. He shoves my shirt up to expose my plain white bra. “Wanted you for years.”
“Me too,” I pant, hands still tangled in his hair.
When Fallon dips his head toward my chest, I close my eyes. The window is cold against my shoulders, my neck, but Fallon’s heat is a blaze all around me. My bra is shoved down beneath my breasts in an instant, and his mouth is on my skin.
I moan.
He sucks my breast into his mouth, his tongue laving my nipple until I’m in a frenzy. “Make up…for lost time,” he grunts between nips of my breast, his hand cupping my flesh as his mouth drives me wild.
I could come like this—sitting across his lap in the car, my body awkwardly shoved against the door, my shirt shoved up to my neck while he teases my breasts like a man starved.
Hand scrabbling for purchase, I grip the steering wheel and arch into his mouth. He answers with a groan, his hand sliding down to wrap around my rib cage, holding me right where he wants me. Sharp jolts of pleasure pierce me with every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his broad hand.
Sex has always been awkward for me. Something I’m supposed to do a certain way, with certain men that have been vetted and approved ahead of time. I had my first one-night stand at the tender age of forty-one, when I signed up for a dating website for a grand total of two weeks. His hands were clammy and I never called him again.
I’ve only ever had sex in a bed, with the lights off. Until Fallon kissed me last year, I hadn’t even realized that it could be anything other than uncomfortable. That pleasure could be so intense it would drive me out of my mind.
My hips grind wantonly, and I feel so intensely, painfully empty.
Fallon lifts his head from my chest, his lips glistening, eyes glazed. His hand moves from my ribs to my breast, as if he can’t stop himself from touching me, feeling me.
For the first time in all my life, I feel sexy. Sensual.
Chest heaving, he palms my breast and shakes his head. “Better than I imagined.”
