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I’m lost to his desperate, near-violent kiss when my fingers curl into the sides of his shirt encasing his hard body. Delicious shivers travel down the length of my spine, because, holy shit, I’ve never experienced a kiss like this before.
His mouth explores mine, his lips hungry, and I match him for every stroke of his tongue, every slant of his lips on my own. He’s singlehandedly electrifying my entire body with his touch.
An ache mounts between my thighs, and my nipples harden into tight peaks. At the base of my stomach, his cock is firm.
His fingers tighten their hold on my hair, using that as leverage to tilt my face exactly how he wants to claim my mouth and deepen the kiss. I fear I’ll end up melting right here against his hard body.
Attempting to burrow even closer to him, when my breasts press flush against the hard wall of his chest, a tiny, needy sound claws its way up my throat. At any other time, I’d be mortified, but it appears to unleash something deep inside him.
He lifts me and plants my ass on the hood of his car, his hips cradled between my thighs, and I automatically lock my ankles around him.
Tunneling his hands through my hair, his stubble abrades my sensitive skin when he trails his lips from my mouth to my jawline and down my neck. Our harsh, strangled breaths punctuate the air and batter through the haze of arousal surrounding me.
As if someone’s snapped their fingers, I’m suddenly aware of his lips traveling slowly, leaving little nips here and there over the tattoos covering the scarred skin on my neck and nearing the collar of my shirt.
Lust pulses through my veins, but apprehension riddles me now, causing me to stiffen in response.
No one’s lips have ever touched that part of me—or any part of my scars. It’s become an unofficial no-trespassing zone, and now that Daniel’s dared to cross over into it, I’m at a loss.
As if to serve as an additional reminder of how I’ve lost my head, someone comes stumbling out of the bar, the din of the music and conversations escaping with them.
Daniel instantly releases his hold of my hair and eases away from me. The moment our eyes collide, my breath gets trapped in my lungs at the hunger visible in the depths.
A slurred voice calls out, “Heyyyy, you twoooo lovebirrrrds.”
Fucking Deiter. He tends to get drunker than a skunk on the weekends, resulting in him sleeping it off at The Pelican Inn in lieu of getting his wife angry. Neither of us acknowledge him as he stumbles off in the nearby motel’s direction.
Silence stretches taut between us, and yearning lances deep inside me when Daniel retreats another step and drags a hand over his face.
He looks away and surveys our surroundings, muttering a guttural, “Fuck,” to the gravel parking lot.
I opt for a flippant tone. “I think that’s a pretty accurate summarization of what almost happened here.” Aaand I fall flat on that one, courtesy of my breathless voice.
His head snaps around at my remark, and the way his gaze rakes over me elicits the need to fidget. In an attempt to smooth my hands over my hair, I detect the trace of small snarls as a result of his fingers having their way.
His nostrils flare a second before the edges of his mouth quirk the slightest bit. “Never made out with a woman on the hood of my car before.” A disgusted look crosses his face as he surveys our surroundings again. “Sure as hell never turned my back on shit like that.”
“I can’t say anything about the latter, but the former?” I study him closely, disbelief coloring my words. “A guy like you? C’mon, now.”
His forehead creases. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know.” I wave a hand, encompassing him from head to toe. “Handsome. More than a touch intimidating. A criminal. The accent. You’ve got the ‘bad boy’ vibe on all fronts.” With a small shrug, I plant my palms against the hood. “It’s like catnip for most women.”
A pause lingers briefly before he murmurs, “For most women, huh?”
Heat blazes in the depths of his gaze, but it gives way to self-reproach when he shakes his head and grinds his palms against his eyes.
When he lets out a grunt and mutters again, I wonder if it’s meant only for his ears. “Never been so damn urgent to get my hands on a woman before that I shoved her on the hood of my car and forgot about watchin’ my back.”
He appears so…lost and disappointed in his own actions that the need to comfort him feels as important as taking my next breath. “Well, I’ve never felt an urgency to be shoved on the hood of someone’s car before, if that makes you feel any better.”
A harsh laugh falls from his lips, and he drops his hands to peer at me. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”
I sober, my voice low and barely audible when I admit, “You’re probably the first person to say that in a good way.” Before his expression can grow entirely thunderous, I rush on while carefully sliding off the hood. “I should, uh—”
“You mentioned somethin’ about snacks for gettin’ my mind off things.” He links his fingers behind his head and glances off in the distance before clearing his throat. Leveling me with an intent look, he adds, “That offer still good?”
This man may be a criminal and a murderer, and definitely exudes a Don’t fuck with me vibe, but he’s also drenched in grief over his sister. I’ve never felt compelled to find a way to soothe someone’s hurt before.
