Page 84 of Double Puck

"Beck! Watch the road!"

"Shit!" I correct the steering wheel and straighten back up. "Sorry."

She laughs and leans closer, not letting go of me, just swapping hands. Christ. It feels so good already. I’m not sure whether to speed up or pull over.

By the time we reach her building, I’m gripping the wheel like it’s holding me back from full-on self-combustion.

Her apartment’s curb looms into view, and in my focus, or lack thereof, I sideswipe a trash can. It clatters loudly as I throw the Bronco into park at an angle so aggressive, I’m pretty sure Declan just sat upright in bed whispering, Beck, no.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, yanking the keys out and jumping out to grab her door.

Darcy looks through the windshield. "You're taking up two spaces."

"I know. Don't ruin this for me."

We don’t even make it to her front door without her stealing another kiss, her hands wandering under my shirt.

We finally reach her door, and Darcy lets go of me and digs through her purse, producing her keys while I'm already behind her, kissing the side of her neck.

"Beck."

"Mmm?"

"I need to open the door."

"Go ahead."

"You're making it extremely difficult."

She tries to slide the key into the lock, but I’m behind her, hands roaming her body, my very obvious hard-on fully pressed against her ass.

I grin against her neck. "Having trouble finding the hole, Spreadsheet?"

She freezes, then slowly looks over her shoulder. "Did you seriously just say that?"

"Sorry. Couldn't let it go."

"You're an idiot."

"And yet..." I press another kiss beneath her ear. "You still can't get it in."

"Oh my God." She's laughing now, trying to elbow me away while simultaneously pushing her ass back against me, which really undermines the message. "Stop touching me for five seconds."

Her elbow jabs me back just enough that the key finally clicks.

The second the door swings open, she pulls me inside, neither of us bothering with lights or formalities.

Our mouths collide, teeth and lips and everything I’ve been holding back since the gala. Her back hits the inside of the door, but I’m already shoving the jacket off her shoulders, yanking at her top.

She tosses her blazer somewhere, dragging her nails down my chest while I work the zipper of her skirt, and we stumble backward, our bodies magnetized. Whatever we knock over in this chaos can’t matter, not when my shirt’s halfway gone, and she’s trying to pull me straight into her bedroom in just her bra.

“This date went from 0 to 60,” I tease, pulling her flush against me again. "I like it."

Her bedroom is clean with white walls, beige linens, a single lamp on the nightstand. It also smells really nice, but I'm too busy kissing her to give a damn.

Darcy stands at the foot of the bed, a masterpiece of black lace and sheer stockings. Her dark lace panties are visible through the stockings, and her bra barely contains the swell of her breasts.

I groan at the gorgeous sight before me as she reaches for my shirt.