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Dropping one of my hands from the tangle of her hair, I skim my fingertips down the side of her body and over her hip until I can reach beneath her ass and lift her thigh to rest against my hip, opening her up to me the way I did the first time outside that bar in Clear Creek.
I pull back and trace my lips across her jaw and down the column of her throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh below her ear. The breathy little moans that spill from her lips send me over the edge. All I can think about right now is getting inside of her, and the small little waves she’s making with every roll of her hips against my stiff cock aren’t helping matters.
She squeezes my hips, bunching my shirt up in her hands as she pulls me in closer to her. The only thing keeping me from taking her right here up against the car are a few layers of fabric… and my morals.
Shit.
I pull back, just slightly, and look down at the heat roiling in her whiskey-colored eyes. Our chests are heaving, our breaths joining together in the small space between us.
Releasing her thigh, I bring both of my hands back to her face, cupping it gently as I feather a kiss over her lips. I rest my forehead against hers and just breathe, trying my best to come back down from the high she puts me on whenever she’s near.
After a few minutes, I open my eyes and find her watching me, uncertainty flickering in her expression. I can’t wait for the day when she doesn’t have to second guess anything that happens between us.
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, suppressing a grin.
“What?” Her whisper soft voice ghosts across my heated skin.
“Nothing, I’m just happy to see you,” I say, my voice thick and coarse with lust.
“So am I,” she admits, shyly.
Skimming my thumbs across her warm cheeks, I lean in and touch the tip of my nose to hers, nudging her playfully.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes,” she says.
I chuckle and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me and holding her there, loving the way she fits so perfectly against me. We stand that way in the cool shade of the tree for several minutes, just enjoying the serenity of each other’s presence.
Drawing in a deep breath, I skim my hands up and down the length of her back before we take a step back, standing face to face again.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask, nodding toward the house.
“Umm, maybe we should just go straight to racing,” she says, color staining her cheeks.
“Okay?” I chuckle, unsure why she’s reacting this way. “Why is that?”
She seems to go over her response for a moment, rolling around the words in her mind before answering.
“I’m afraid that if we go inside right now, this,” she gestures at the space between us, “will pick right back up where it left off, and there will be no stopping.”
And now I have to stand here and act like that wouldn’t be the best choice given the current level of sexual frustration we both seem to be feeling, when what I really want to do is throw her over my shoulder and take her upstairs to my bed, sinking so deep inside of her that I practically lose myself.
Clearing my throat — and the images of her beneath me from my mind — I plaster an innocent grin on my face and lead her toward the tracks below.
“You’re still not getting that turn,” I say after Keaton and I pull up alongside one another, cars facing opposite directions.
“I’m just not used to it yet,” she says, cutting her eyes away from me to stare aimlessly out the front window.
I’m not sure what the problem is, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of things, one way or another.
“Bullshit,” I say, knowing I’m going to have to rile her up if I’m going to get anything out of her when she gets this way.
Her head whips toward me at that challenge, caught off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I call bullshit,” I repeat myself.
