Free Endless Nights: Vegas Nights, Book 3 by Karen Erickson Page B

catch footballs, sure, but they were also magic hands that had her trembling and falling apart rather quickly…
    “Here’s my truck.” He stopped at a gleaming brand-new blue Toyota pickup and unlocked the doors with a keyless remote, going to the passenger side to open the door for her. She hopped into the truck with his assistance, turning to look at him and say thank you, but he cut her off with his lips, kissing her so fiercely she had no choice but to lean back against the seat.
    She grabbed hold of the back of his neck, her mouth opening to his, letting his tongue slide inside. A groan escaped her and she tunneled her fingers into his soft hair, gasping when his big warm hand maneuvered beneath her shirt and settled on her stomach.
    “We keep this up, I’ll be fucking you in the parking garage—I don’t give a damn who sees us,” he said when he finally tore his lips from hers.
    Exhaling a shuddery breath, she released her hold on him. That sounded perfect, which was totally crazy. She couldn’t allow him to do any such thing to her in a public parking garage. “Take me to your place,” she murmured, making him smile.
    “Will do, baby.” He shut the door and rounded the back of the truck, opening his door so he could slip her suitcase on the bench seat behind them before he hopped into the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
    She smiled. “I can’t believe it either.”
    “I’m glad, though.” His deep voice washed over her, making her shiver, and she watched as he settled his big hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “Fucking ecstatic, if you want me to be honest.”
    Andrea laughed, loving his honesty. Probably way too much. “Me too.”
    Luke really couldn’t believe Andrea was here with him in Seattle. She looked beautiful, a little apprehensive, a lot excited. Her hair was down, soft and wavy, and he wanted to touch it. Bury his hands in it. She wore dark-rinsed jeans that clung to her long, slender legs, and an oversized black T-shirt with a neckline that kept sloping off one shoulder, revealing the thin black strap of her bra.
    That drove him fucking crazy. And by the looks of it, she was wearing the bra he bought her when they were in Vegas. The very bra she wore when he fucked her with his fingers in the dressing room and made her come with his hand locked over her mouth.
    He’d replayed that moment way too many times over the last two weeks since he was with her. He’d jerked off to that memory, not that he’d ever admit it to her. But damn, she’d been hot. So responsive. Excited and worried and scared and aroused, all at once. Talk about a rush.
    Hell, having her in his truck at this very minute was a complete rush. For the next twenty-four hours, he planned on doing nothing else but spending naked time with Andrea. For the twenty-four hours after that, he needed to find a way to tell her that he wanted more than just an occasional hookup with her. Even more than a long-distance relationship, though that was what he’d settle for. Temporarily. Truthfully? He wanted more.
    He wanted it all and he wanted it with Andrea.
    “How far to your place?” she asked once he steered his truck onto the freeway.
    “Twenty, thirty minutes, give or take. Depends on traffic,” he answered. He lived in a high-rise condo in the city for now, not wanting to invest in a house for fear he might need to move again. His future with the Seahawks when he first started with them had been shaky at best. He’d believed he would be traded at one point, but that never came to be. He was thankful. He liked having one team, a group of guys he could count on. He’d made friends with many of them, had been envious of the relationships many of them had with their girlfriends and wives while he’d been alone. The single guy.
    There were plenty of single guys within the team, but he was over it. He wanted stability. Damn it, he wanted love.
    Andrea could take care of that in an instant, as