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She made a distressed noise. “That’s not my car,” she gasped.
“Don’t care,” he mumbled against her mouth. His hand slid down to the small of her back and under his shirt. Just a whisper of a touch where her shorts gaped.
It may as well have been a lot lower for how her body reacted. Again and again, his whisper touch warred with his kiss. Languid softness turned to a feast of lips and tongue. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.
Because she was feeling much the same, his passion ignited hers. She reached between them, his impressive bulge heavy in her palm.
“Okay, Goldie, if you keep that up we might just activate the alarm system on this car.”
“Good thing mine is in the next aisle.”
He laughed. “Good thing.” He lifted her off the car and wrapped her legs around his hips. “Which one?”
Damn. He lifted her like she weighed nothing. She was a tall girl, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Gold Toyota over there.”
“Of course it is.”
She grinned down at him when he placed her on the trunk of her car.
He moved away from her and pulled his phone out. “Stay there.”
She boosted herself further back on the cool metal, resting her hands between her legs and letting her feet swing. “You know it was the phone that took away all the points on the other guy.”
“I’m using my phone for good.”
“I’m sure he thought so too.”
“No,” Vance quirked an eyebrow, “he did it to further his own agenda. I’m making a reservation.”
“Hotel?” She tried to keep the snark out of her tone because part of her really wanted him to say yes.
“You’re going to kill me, Goldie.”
She rather liked that she had that effect on him. Sexual power was a new thing for her.
“Hi, this is Mr. O’Neal.”
So that was his last name.
“Can you have a table ready with a view of the lake?” He made a low humming sound. “Great. Thanks, Rami.” He flicked something on the side of his phone and jammed it into his pocket. “Now, no more interruptions.”
“Promise?”
He slid his hands along her waist and under the back of her shirt. “Our spot will be ready in twenty minutes. It’s a busy night at the Mason Jar.”
She twined her fingers into the curls at his nape. Without thought, she combed her fingers up into the thicker, longer waves. His face smoothed into a kind of bliss that she understood. There was something intimate and decadent about touching someone new. “I can’t believe you got us in.”
He opened his eyes with a lazy flutter of dense lashes. “If you keep doing that I’ll be cancelling and taking you home.”
She brushed her nose along his. “Oh, yeah?” The Mason Jar was one of the hottest restaurants in the area, but there was a large part of her that would be willing to give that up. She wanted to see him laid out on soft sheets, his tanned skin and dark hair bold against Egyptian cotton.
His.
Hers.
A hotel.
She didn’t much care at the moment. “What if I said I wanted you to take me home?”
