Page 64 of Wild and Wanted

Clay’s heart did a wild giddy-up in his chest at seeing her in his passenger seat, loose and relaxed, her head lolling back against the rest, the regular flash of overhead lights lining the highway intermittently catching her soft smile in their golden glow.

It made him feel… all white picket fence. His girl in his truck after a great night out. Which was all kinds of stupid. She wasn’t his girl. As he’d told Ivan – she’d be gone in two weeks and they were on very different life paths.

But the feeling refused to disappear.

The song ended and Chris Stapleton crooning ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ oozed into the space, and Stevie sighed as she turned the volume up a notch. ‘I love this version.’ She rolled her head to the side, her gaze fanning his profile. ‘I know so many people who are purists when it comes to original songs but there are so many good cover versions of songs out there.’

The mellow music and her tranquil mood were having a soothing effect on the nag of Clay’s conscious, and he smiled as he looked her way for a beat or two before returning his attention to the road. ‘Yeah? Which covers are your favourite?’

‘Well, there’s the GOAT of course, “I Will Always Love You”.’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Whitney did Dolly a solid on that one.’

Her laugh added to the warmth of the space as she reeled off more of her favourites. Some Clay hadn’t heard so she found them on her Spotify and made him listen to them, and before he knew it they were driving under the arch of the wrought-iron entrance to the ranch. Shortly after that, he was rolling to a stop outside her cabin, letting the engine idle to the tune of ‘Bless the Broken Road’.

Which could not have been more appropriate.

‘Hmm,’ she hummed happily, a contented smile on her face as she half turned in her seat, her eyes meeting his in the darkened space of the cab. ‘That was a great night.’

It was. And, God help him – as their gazes lingered – he didn’t want it to end. She didn’t either if he was reading it right, her smile slowly fading as the easy-going atmosphere in the cab became… charged. The shift tingled against his tongue and set a sudden frisson skittering through his blood.

‘You wanna stargaze? I think the clouds are going to clear.’

A slow shake of her head added a sizzle to the air. ‘No.’

Clay’s heart thudded like the pound of horses’ hooves on hard ground as he contemplated his next words. ‘You ever… make out in a truck before?’

As far as Clay was concerned, it was a seminal experience that every red-blooded American kid should have. Not sex – just wild, crazy, pushing-the-envelope-but-never-going-all-the-way passion which was fun, heady, harmless and super instructive.

And maybe more Stevie’s pace?

Maybe something so innocuous was passé in this social-media, online-dating, instant-hook-up world (from which he had benefited greatly), but some of the best times Clay had ever had as a teenager involved making out with girls in cars. And he wanted that for Stevie, too.

‘Nope.’

Clay’s breath went thick in his throat. ‘Would you like to?’

A slow smile spread across her face as she unsnapped her seat belt. ‘Definitely.’

Then she was reaching for him as she slid across the bench seat and Clay had time only to kill the engine, the headlights and music cutting out as her body smooshed against his just like that first time in his car, and blood rushed to every cell and sinew of his body, thickening his pulse. Her hands pushed into his hair, her fingernails an erotic scrape on his scalp as their eyes found each other’s in the dark.

‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night,’ she whispered, her warm breath fanning his mouth.

‘Same,’ he muttered as he slid his hands to her hips and hitched her closer in their awkward side-on positions. ‘Same.’

And then their lips met and it was like electricity finding its earth. Hot, sizzling, showering sparks that lit up every nerve ending. Clay groaned, it was so damn good, licking up the taste of tequila from the pitcher of margaritas she’d shared with Mags, filling up with the aroma of her perfume and the wild suck of her breathing.

Within a minute, the windscreen was fogged from their ragged pants, two mouths desperately smashing together, exploring and plundering, the nonsensical noises torn from their throats as feral as Clay’s throbbing, thumping desire.

He was an experienced twenty-eight-year-old man with oodles of sexual experience and an almost crippling erection fogging up the car windows like a teenager with a woman of zero sexual experience who was also famous and might not actually want to do anything more than just kiss and touch a little. And yet nothing short of a grizzly jumping on the hood could sever this desire right now.

Except for the stealth clutch of her hand around his cock.

‘Fuuck.’ Clay tore his mouth from hers, his heart banging against his rib cage as he shut his eyes momentarily to dispel the stars bursting across his vision.

He opened them again, meeting her eyes that glittered with a sexual inebriation that had nothing to do with tequila.

‘Is this okay?’ she asked over the noisy shunt of their breathing. ‘Please?’ She squeezed him then, clamping his nuts in a vice as pleasure stormed his defences and his head thunked back against his seat. ‘I’ve been dying to touch you like this.’