Katie
Michael’s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer until there’s barely any space left between us.
The warmth of his chest presses against my palms, and the moment his thumb brushes the edge of my jaw again, something traitorous melts in my stomach.
This is a problem. A very tall, tattooed problem.
And apparently, I’ve decided to make it worse.
I pull him down and kiss him again. Michael doesn’t miss a beat. His hand slides along my back as the kiss deepens. When we finally pull apart, he studies my face for a second.
“You’re making this very easy for me, Doll.”
“I know,” I let slip.
His grin widens before he kisses me again, and again, I let him.
He lets go of my waist and turns toward the street, heading back toward his car with his hands tucked into his pockets. I follow him like a puppy, catching his arm before he gets too far. It’s the first time tonight I have absolutely nothing smart to say.
He opens the car door for me, his hand settling low on my back as he guides me into the seat.
“Thank you,” I say, glancing up at him as I sit.
“No problem.”
He walks around the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat.
The engine hums to life the second he turns the key.
I buckle my seatbelt as he pulls out of the spot.
My hands rest awkwardly on my knees. His fingers slide through mine, and I inhale.
From the corner of my eye, I see his mouth tilt upward.
“Having a good time?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble.
“There’s my girl,” he says, glancing over, one side of his mouth curling.
His girl.
“I’m your girl now?”
“Do you want to be?” he asks.
Am I really about to let a man whose name I didn’t even know twenty-four hours ago call me his girl?
I tighten my grip on his hand. Yes. I very much am.
“I thought so,” he says.
Michael flips his turn signal on and turns down my street, guiding the car easily through the quiet row of houses before pulling into my driveway. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as he eases it into park and shuts the engine off. The sudden silence inside the car feels strangely loud.
He reaches for the door handle, but before he can open it, my hand shoots out and grabs his arm. Michael turns toward me, brows lifting slightly in question, but whatever he’s about to say never makes it out. I lean across the center console and kiss him.
The kiss is reckless, my mouth meeting his. For half a second, he lets it happen. Then he takes control.
His hand slides up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss with confidence.
The console digs painfully into my hip as I stretch across the space between us, but Michael reaches down without looking and flips the console up with one quick movement.
The next thing I know his arm is wrapped firmly around my waist and I’m being lifted clean off my seat.
He pulls me across the car and settles me in his lap, my back bumping lightly against the driver’s door as the kiss never really breaks.
One of his hands stays at my neck while the other tightens around my waist, holding me there as if this is exactly where I was meant to be.
My pulse is in my ears now, and somewhere in the back of my mind a very rational part of me is trying to point out that this man is strong enough to pick me up with one arm.
Unfortunately, that observation does absolutely nothing to make me stop kissing him back.
I shift in his lap without thinking. The reaction is immediate. Michael exhales against my mouth, and his hand settles on my thigh. He breaks the kiss.
His forehead rests against mine, his breathing a little heavier now.
“Careful, Katie.”
My pulse is hammering.
“With what?” I murmur.
His thumb drags along my jaw.
“With starting something we probably shouldn’t finish in your driveway.”
The words sit there for half a second. Then my mind finally translates them.
Finish.
Oh.
Oh no. He means sex. He absolutely means sex.
My stomach drops. Because this grown man currently holding me in his lap clearly knows exactly what he’s doing, while I’m a twenty-four-year-old virgin who was just picked up and deposited in his lap like a piece of luggage. And I kissed him back.
Enthusiastically.
This is going great.
Truly flawless decision-making tonight, Katie.
I slide off his lap in a hurry.
“Right,” I say, briskly. “Good call.”
Michael watches me, clearly amused.
“Whatever you say, Doll.”
He brushes his hair back off his forehead, and his arm flexes when he does it.
My brain immediately suggests that I bite his bicep. Not kiss him. Not say something normal. No. Bite him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Well, Katie,” he says, glancing toward the house before looking back at me. “Should I walk you to your door?”
“Yes,” I say too quickly.
The corner of his mouth lifts.
He nods once and reaches for the handle. “Don’t open that door.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Michael pauses halfway out of the car but then leans back toward me. His fingers slide beneath my chin, lifting it just enough that I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“Oh, Doll,” he says quietly. “I’m absolutely going to tell you what to do.”
My brain’s immediate response is, Yes, sir.
Oh my God.