“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