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"Kate?"
I slide my hands around his scalp and scratch softly. He lifts his head.
"Kate? Controlling myself is getting really hard. I don't know if I can handle it."
Even in the wan orange glow of the parking lot lamp, I can still detect the intensity in his eyes. He repeats himself,slowly, while pressing his hips into mine. He whispers the wordfuck, and I melt, all while agreeing that yes, that's exactly what we should do at some point.
Like maybe right now, because my entire body aches for him.
I'm not at all surprised to see that I've wrapped my legs around his hips and we're basically dry humping like teenagers. It doesn't even matter that the newly installed mat in the wagon barely conceals the metal beneath. There's a bump that's jutting into the small of my back, but I don't care.
My body appears to be doing its own thing—which would be getting as close to Damien's hard muscles as possible.
I nod and shudder again. "Okay. Then don't control yourself. Please?"
He shakes his head, almost like he's guilty of something. "Not here. Not like this." He thrusts into me, the roughness of his jeans causing a desperate friction between my legs. The man hasn't even touched any part of me other than my neck and face, and I'm already wet and needy.
I run my hands over his chest, feeling the muscles under the T-shirt. It's sort of crazy how touching his body makes me feel so wild and primal.
Still. As much as I want to have sex right now, it's probably not the best idea to screw in the back of a wagon in the empty parking lot of Mom's tiki bar. Island police do cruise through here, and stray tourists use this as a shortcut to Main Street.
Dammit.
"We can't go to my place. I'm at Mom's, and her house is small. You know that. Sorry."
He dips to kiss me again, his tongue pushing into my mouth. After a solid few minutes of the sweetest, dirtiest kiss I've ever had, he pushes himself up and takes a deep breath.
"Don't apologize. I'm staying at my parents' place, too. But my room is upstairs..."
A look of pure frustration crosses his face. He looks so damned cute when he scowls, and I grin.
"What?" He brushes a kiss over my lips, his frown turning to a smile.
"We're twenty-eight, and we don't even have a place to hook up. It's funny."
"I guess you could call my giant, raging hard-on funny." He laughs and presses into me again. Oh my God, it feels like his erection is massive. I shiver.
"There's nothing funny about that," I whisper.
He moves off me and stretches out on his side. Well, sort of stretches, as much as he can. Damien's so tall that we've migrated to a diagonal configuration in the back of the wagon, with his feet hanging out the back. I curl up next to him, and he kisses my forehead.
Pressing my ear to his chest, I can hear his heart pounding.
It's beating like that because of me.
The eighteen-year-old me is floored. The twenty eight-year-old me is aroused to the point of near-begging. I'd fantasized about what Damien would be like in bed so many times, and it seems like I'm finally going to fulfill every one of my dirty dreams.
"I also don't want you to think...how do I say this?"
I prop myself up on my elbow so I can stare at his face in the light of the streetlamp. My stomach flutters. "Think what?"
He strokes my hair softly. "I don't want you to think thatI thinkyou're easy. Or a slut. Given everything that happened to you in high school."
I frown, and the tightness in my stomach turns to a block of concrete. "Damien. We're not in high school."
"I know."
"What happened to me was the fault of bullies and a culture that blames and shames girls. I've grown up andmoved on from that kind of thinking. I'm over the slut shaming. I'm not going to apologize for wanting to have sex. You're single, right?"
