Oh God. His silky voice made her want to do anything he asked. She put her head on his hard thigh, and if she’d been a bit tired before, she was wide awake now. Still, she snuggled her shoulder up against him, closed her eyes, breathed in sun-fresh laundry laced with testosterone. His fingers stroked her hair behind her ears, not that there was much of it to push back. She imagined his eyes on her, but didn’t look. Hmmm. This was too nice. The thrum of the engine soothed her, the sound of the tires against the road and the stroke of his hand a tactile lullaby.
But something was growing beneath her ear. She moved her head, stroking him with her cheek. He slouched deeper in the seat. They continued that way, his hand in her hair, dipping beneath her collar occasionally, and her face in his lap. She hummed and breathed all over him, keeping him as hot as he did her. She couldn’t say her trepidation over this relationship was gone. Saying the love word was a terrifying thing. But the ease with which she fit so neatly in his lap, his comforting scent and gentle caresses, subjugated her fears.
Reducing speed, his leg flexed beneath her. The car slowed. She swayed with its turns, tucking one hand under his leg and curling the other next to his thigh.
Another turn, then they stopped. He reached forward over her, retrieving something. A moment later came the electric whir of a garage door opening.
“I thought you parked outside,” she murmured, eyes still shut. He had the other times.
“Only eight o’clock. Be damned if I’m gonna make love with you in my truck with the neighbors watching.”
Her heart stopped beating. Of course, it started beating again at some point. She thought about the length of his legs and the width of the cab. Then she decided to screw the logistics, pun intended. They’d work it out.
He pulled in, shut the engine off, and brought the door down behind them. “Max?”
She rolled over in his lap and looked up at him. The garage light clicked off. The moon streamed in from somewhere, but his blue eyes turned black in the dim cab. He took a shallow breath. His body pulsed beneath her head. He waited, hand cupping the side of her neck.
“Kiss me,” she demanded, her arm snaking up his chest, around his neck. He supported her while she did all the work. Not that it could be called work.
He tasted of the butterscotch candy. She opened her mouth, and at the touch of her tongue to his, she went from drowsy, comfortable, and compliant to hot, wet, and crazy. She devoured him. He let her. God, she wanted him. Her arms tightened around his neck. Wanted him right here, right now in his truck. Where else? Where better?
It was shameful the way she pressed herself to his chest, her nipples full and painful. She pulled back, feeling the light pop as his lips slipped from hers. His gaze glittered in the moonlight. His breath came fast, and yes, there it was, a slight tremble in his arm across her back and his hand against her waist.
Shameful the way she wanted him, the way he wanted her? Never. She swallowed, put a hand to his lips. She wanted to say something, tell him...
“Tell me what you want me to do.” His voice was rough and heavy with emotion. That emotion had nothing to do with shame.
She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of candy, laundry, and intoxicating testosterone. Her hands stroked the soft material of his shirt, over the hard pebbles of his nipples, his throat, in his hair, short, spiky, and soft.
He shifted, straining beneath her, a gentle puff of air coming against her lips, a light groan against her ear.
What she wanted. God, to be unashamed and totally out of control. Free at last. She didn’t want him to beg or plead for her trust. She didn’t need a mirror to know with whom she was making love.
“You tell me what will drive you crazy,” she whispered a hairsbreadth from his mouth, pulling back, eye meeting eye. Before there’d always been a neon sign overhead flashing Control Freak, Control Freak for all to see. She pulled the plug on its power and added, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
With a full-fledged groan, he ground against her. The man was hard as a rock. For her. And that was a good thing. Not a scary or a shameful thing. He pulled on the knot of the tie he’d picked for her. “Take off your jacket.”
She did, laying it across the back of her seat.
“Unbutton your blouse.”
“See? I knew you made me wear it so you could watch me take it off.”
“Uhuh,” he got out, slightly strangled.
Sprawled across his lap, she leaned back against the steering wheel, hoping she didn’t set off the horn. Then again, what a signal that would make. A scant inch from the first blouse button, she stopped. “Are you sure they’re big enough?”
He grinned and slid a hand beneath hers to palm her breast. “They fit in my mouth perfectly. Undo it.”