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“There are a lot of things I don’t tell them.”
He still had her hand, his thumb rolled across her knuckles. He called, “Park us somewhere quiet. I’ll take it from here.”
The car cruised to a stop, so early Sunday morning the city was a ghost town. The driver got out with a nod to Reid before he walked off.
Zarley put her hand on Reid’s thigh. “Bold move, Back Booth.”
He toyed with a strand of her hair. “When I’m not an unemployed bum, I’m known for my bold moves.”
“I probably need some convincing of that, since you haven’t made a move on me yet.”
He squeezed her hand. “I want to kiss you, but I’m scared if I start I won’t want to stop.”
“That’s kinda how it’s supposed to go.”
“Zarley.” He said it like a warning.
Who was this man who’d seen her close to naked, had her alone in his car, knew she was dead keen, and hadn’t tried to jump her? “You can kiss me, Reid.”
He closed his eyes. “You’re sure?”
His hesitancy was unbelievably endearing. If it wasn’t lust she saw in his blue-gray eyes with their flecks of orange, she might’ve hesitated too. She inched closer, tipped her head up and touched her lips to his.
His eyes flared wide and his whole body jerked, his arm coming off the back of the seat and rounding her, but he didn’t press them together and he didn’t take the kiss and run with it.
So she did.
She took a handful of his shirt and brought her body into his, her other hand going to his face, and she kissed him again, loving the way his breath caught, his arm closed on her and his muscles locked. This time he kissed back, but closed-mouthed, tentative as if the action held some primitive requirement for restraint, as if he wasn’t sure what came next.
And what came next was glorious.
He groaned. It sounded like it came from the soles of his boots and surged through him, blasting past internal organs and external reticence. It was a tortured sound of longing and it entered her body with the flash of a heat wave. It changed everything. It made her want him not for the sport of it, but for the complications of what they might be together.
She opened her mouth and licked across his lip and he did it again, groaned like he was in pain. His hand came up to the back of her head, fingers tight on her scalp as if he needed an anchor while she pressed his mouth and he opened to her.
They kissed, with a frantic energy that zinged through her pinpointing all her hot zones, her throat, her nipples, her thighs, her clit with shocking accuracy, but it was Reid who trembled.
She broke the kiss. “Are you okay?” She put her hand to his forehead, his eyes were wild, the pupils huge. “Do you feel sick again?”
He took a shuddery breath. “I’m good.” His voice was low and rough and he tipped her to fasten his lips on her neck. “But you?” He tipped her again into the cradle of his arm so he could open his mouth on her throat. “This is okay for you? With me, with tinted windows, getting a room?”
He said that even as she rearranged him, straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. What wasn’t he getting here? “I want this, Reid. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
He palmed her ass and pulled her closer so she grazed his erection. His head fell back into the seat. “Oh fuck, if this is sickness, kill me now.”
She had a second to appreciate the fact she’d wrecked him and they were both fully dressed and there’d been no tongue. She slipped her hoodie off and tried to steady her breathing, but he looked at her as if she was the first meal of a starving man. Like he wanted to make a mess devouring her but knew that might not be good for him. That was—that was—ahh, like winning an important competition, like gold.
“The way I feel, this won’t be pretty, Flygirl.”
Flygirl. She opened her knees and rolled her hips. “Show me.”
He bound her, a hand on her ass cheek and one at her neck and he kissed her with the same stubborn craft he’d used to get her here, a potent mix of fumbling and confidence, as if he was drunk on her, didn’t know his own strength and had no concept of where this was going.
There was nothing careful or charming about it, he was insistent and demanding and it was so much more than she’d expected. It was making out to the power of ten. Every single judge giving them that perfect score. She rocked her hips and he thrust and they stopped kissing to pant, foreheads pressed together, until without warning he flipped her to her back on the seat and held himself over her.
“You are gonna kill me.”
She put her hand to his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “What a way to go, huh? Take me home to your empty apartment so we can both die with our clothes off.”
