Page 63 of Against the Clock

“We already know I fit perfectly inside you.” The words come out in a low growl, and the intensity of my need takes me aback.

She doesn’t answer, and when I glance from the road to her face, she’s blushing, her white teeth biting down on her lip.

“When you look at me like that, it makes it hard for me to think about anything but kissing you,” I tell her.

“Kissing isn’t off the table.”

“It is while I’m driving, and if I pull the car over right now to kiss you, I’m going to have a hard time not pulling that dress up and tasting you all over again.”

She sucks in a breath, the noise small and quiet against the sound of the road outside.

I’m going to lose my mind if I keep thinking about the sounds she makes.

I turn on the radio and music blares through the speakers. It’s not a cold shower, but it’s the closest thing I’ve got, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to break my promise to have her begging me for sex.

It’ll be so fucking worth it.

The music gets quieter, and when I look over, she’s fiddling with the knob.

“I finally got a chance to look at the book. You know, the one you slipped in my bag? Your favorite?”

I make a turn, then promptly pump the brakes, running into good ole Philly traffic. “What did you think?”

“I was surprised, to be honest. I was expecting like… I don’t know, Cormac McCarthy or something.”

“Cormac McCarthy?” I huff a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but not exactly a favorite of mine.”

“Well, A Wrinkle In Time wasn’t what I expected.”

“I love that book,” I say honestly. “I loved it as a kid, and it’s one of the few that held up when I went back to read it a few years ago.”

“I loved it too. I haven’t thought about it in years, but now I want to reread it.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, and the smile I give her now has nothing to do with how badly I want her and everything to do with the fact she wants to reread one of my favorite books… because it’s my favorite.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, god. I can’t pick a favorite book. That’s like asking me to pick, I don’t know, a favorite child.”

“You never said you had kids. I had no idea.”

Her musical laugh at my stupid joke is better than anything playing through my speakers.

“You know,” I continue, “kids aren’t a dealbreaker for me, but that is something that you should probably bring up before a fourth date.” I can’t seem to wipe the grin off my face. Can’t seem to play it cool with her.

“Fourth date? This is our second date.”

“Nah.” I hold up four fingers. “The sandwich date.” I tick one off. “The phone date.” Another finger down. “And last, but not least, the sleepover date.”

She’s beaming up at me, and my chest is so full it feels like it could crack open.

“Four dates.” Her eyebrows rise, and I make myself look back at the road. “That sounds pretty serious.”

“Kelsey Cole, I wouldn’t be taking you out tonight if I wasn’t one hundred percent serious about you.”

“Speaking of which, where are you taking me?”

I scrunch my nose as the stoplight turns red again. “I gotta come clean with you.”

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