Chapter Two #2
Honestly, it had been years since she’d been held at all.
More than five since her brother had gone, since her boyfriend had broken up with her, since her parents had thrown her out of her home.
She’d not allowed anyone this close since.
She’d made it a rule never to get involved with anyone remotely related to work, but as she only had time for work, she only met men from work and therefore, they were all excluded.
But this guy had nothing to do with her job.
He was nothing but a fellow traveller, passing through her life for a few hours.
And as rusty as she was, as vaguely experienced, she knew their chemistry had been instant and intense.
In the glimpse she’d had of his body, in his husky voiced, easy-going interest and dry amusement, there had been awareness.
They’d shared little really, yet it was more than enough for a deep resonance to strike within.
The vibrations between them still hummed.
He was a decent guy—supportive. She never shared her dreams but he’d unquestioningly believed she’d make it to wheel-gun queen, and now she couldn’t resist the temptation to press that touch closer to his perfection, breathing in his musky scent.
She didn’t want him to wake. She wanted to stay like this forever—craved this precious closeness.
So she breathed it in. She was so engrossed in appreciating the sensations, that she didn’t notice the subtle quickening of the rise and fall beneath her at first. She gently spread her fingers, feeling more of his broad but lean chest, stilling as she grazed the steely point of his nipple with her thumb.
Heat filled her and she couldn’t resist swiping her thumb across it again.
His sharp inhalation filled the tiny space between them.
His heavy, all-encompassing arms tightened.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, mortified. ‘I fell asleep on you.’
She went to pull away but his arms tightened more. She froze. There was a breathless beat before he suddenly relaxed his hold but she didn’t straighten and move away from him as she should.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he murmured. ‘I liked it.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ He sounded sleepy but his arms flexed again. Keeping her right where she ached to be. Close.
‘Me, too.’
Wary, yet unable to resist tiptoeing towards some wonderful, fragile temptation, Lily slowly slid her palm farther up his chest. She heard another hitch in his breath but he said nothing.
He didn’t stop her. Emboldened by the warmth and the darkness, by the leashed power in his firm hold, she gently explored more—skimming her hand up to the neck of his tee and across to the bare warm skin of his throat.
He seemed to stop breathing entirely as Lily fluttered her fingertips all the way up to his jaw.
It was roughened by stubble, but still sharp; he was all masculine angles.
She grazed her fingertip—the lightest brush, an illicit, irresistible touch—across his lower lip and felt the welcoming swipe of his tongue.
Adrenaline surged as anticipation flooded her.
Green light.
It took nothing to raise her head and lightly brush her lips over his.
His arms instantly tightened. He had been holding back on his power.
His lips parted and met hers. She gasped as he groaned, lost in drowsy, erotic appreciation.
He cupped her face and deepened the kiss, taking control, but she kissed him harder—matching his ardour.
She didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want him to, either.
She didn’t want anything to stop this moment.
She needed nothing but this because she’d never been kissed like this in her life.
Yet, all too soon, kisses weren’t enough.
She wasn’t close enough. She unfastened her seat belt and he immediately pulled her onto his lap and wound his arms tight around her, not breaking the seal of their mouths.
Ignited, she kissed him harder, increasingly hot and aching.
He combed his fingers through her hair, toying with the silky length before settling his heavy palm on the nape of her neck, keeping his kisses lush and deep.
He shifted beneath her and she succumbed to the carnal urge to climb right on him.
She tore her lips free, snatching a breath, and managed to straddle one of his thighs.
He kissed down the side of her neck, gently tracing over her collarbones, setting off trails of pure fire that arrowed low.
She clamped her thighs harder around his as he skimmed his hand beneath her tee and lifted it up and off her.
It was hot, fast, unstoppable. He teased his thumbs over her bra and flexed that thigh beneath her, encouraging her to ride.
With exquisite, torturous strokes he guided her pace.
The delicious friction of the rock-hard muscle right beneath her core felt incredible—igniting her.
She knew it took both discipline and genetic blessing to have a body like his.
She groaned, wishing she could get him naked, get closer still.
Apparently, he read her mind. She moaned as he unfastened her jeans and slid his hand into her pants, but her position blocked wholly intimate access.
It didn’t matter. He got one finger right where she needed it, applied the exact pressure she ached for.
Quivering, she rocked and he rubbed and it was unbearably hot and slick and hungry.
‘Go on, gorgeous,’ he growled against her breasts. ‘Get it.’
She needed no encouragement; she was almost there.
He sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, bra and all—hard.
She bucked, barely biting back her scream as pleasure smashed through her in ecstatic, intense waves, over and over until she slumped against him, breathless and sweltering and unable to believe she’d hit that high, that hard, that quick.
Now he roved his hands carefully over her back as the spasms slowly ebbed. His was the lightest, most tender touch, but she didn’t want careful; she wanted complete.
‘Don’t hit the brakes too soon,’ she muttered unevenly.
His huff of amusement warmed her, but he tensed more—which ought to have been impossible.
‘Then you need to pick the braking point,’ he growled.
Oh there wasn’t going to be a braking point.
‘You do realise that was just the qualifying lap,’ she murmured. ‘We’re not stopping until we both get the chequered flag.’
The bad race jargon banter was perfectly unserious, but the underlying meaning was so important. She desperately didn’t want him to stop.
‘I’m willing to race.’ He slid his hands down the outside of her thighs. ‘But you’re the one in pole position. You set the pace.’
Fine by her. So fine. She tugged his tee up and off the same way he’d discarded hers.
His body was pure ripped fire. She kissed across his chest, nuzzling closer, and unclasped his belt.
He worked on his jeans and she shifted to straddle both his legs and bring her core flush to his.
She moaned as she finally felt his rigid arousal right where she wanted it most.
He spread both hands beneath her butt. ‘Time to push.’
‘Go full throttle? I dare you to unleash all your power.’
She felt him coil and he suddenly rose, lifting her with him in a fierce movement.
He took two steps and pressed her against the wall, grinding close.
She gasped, delight-stunned and desperate for more.
She wriggled to help her jeans slide down, finally shaking one leg completely free and immediately hooked it around his slim hips.
His rough groan was her undoing. Desire unfurled—unravelling every thought, destroying all caution.
He was nitrous oxide turbo-charging her engine, but where she’d taken the lead before, he now overtook—gaining control of track position and pace.
He pressed close, his hands swift and skilled, scorching every inch of her skin.
She’d never felt as wanted in her life and had never wanted a man to claim her so intensely.
She’d not even seen his face properly but it didn’t matter.
She felt him now—kissing his high cheekbones, tracing his straight nose and the stubble on his lean, sharp jaw.
She ran her hand down his warm neck and nuzzled closer. Needing more. ‘Please—’
‘Safety car,’ he breathed hard, then groaned. ‘Need to slow the pace.’
‘Why?’ she wailed.
‘Unsafe conditions.’ He panted. ‘Helmet. Flame protection. Can’t let the celebrations make things messy.’
It was an appalling muddle of racing metaphors but she finally got what he meant and she froze, devastated. ‘I don’t have—’
‘Give me a second.’ He stepped away, rummaging in his satchel in the dark.
Did the guy have condoms in his courier bag?
Lily blinked. Oh well, good for him and lucky for her.
Maybe those few minutes breathing space should’ve given her a chance to see sense—to be a little cautious about having sex with a stranger.
Instead, they had the opposite effect. This had been the best weekend ever and she was ending it with a bang.
She was so here for this with him and he definitely knew what he was doing.
She heard his muttered oath of relief and very nearly cried with joy herself.
A moment later he was back before her. On his knees.
She heard the rip of foil. Another muttered imprecation.
She laughed—then gasped at the sudden slide of his hot mouth up the inside of her thigh.
He pulled her panties off then gripped her hips, holding her still enough to taste her.
She drove her fingers though his hair—desperate to let him plunder but needing so much more at the same time.
‘I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.’ She pushed her hips forward in an unashamedly needy erotic invitation. ‘Please. Please.’