Page 13 of Winters Heat

His arm was cemented around her shoulder, and it wasn’t moving. He stared as the broken white lines on the highway passed in quick revolutions, one right after another. The hum of the truck’s engine poked at his concentration.

He needed to get out of this truck. He needed cool, fresh air to cover him. Right now. Deep, mind-clearing breaths were in order as soon as possible. Anything to get his disciplined mind back to what it did best—analyze, act, accomplish.

Winters made a sharp exit off the highway onto an unlit ramp. He jammed on the brakes. Gravel spit from under the truck. The back end skidded and fishtailed before it came to a stop. His heart thumped. His throat tightened. The faint scent of burned rubber filtered into the pickup cab.

Oh, what the hell. No way was he getting out of this truck.

As fast as he pulled off the road, he brought her close to his face, and without even a second to hover over her, he crushed his lips onto hers. Her tense mouth gasped a breath, then melted. The hot caress of her tongue sent explosions from his chest to the palms of his hands. The pounding in his heart didn’t get any better. It only pushed his racing pulse faster, making it gallop wild, as intoxicating rockets flamed inside him.

Insanity. She was delicious insanity.

In between breathless pants, wicked want fired. Her lips were full. Her kiss was better than he expected, and hell, he expected a whole lot. She stoked him faster than he could ever remember. A kiss unlike any other kiss. There was no denying that.

He knotted a hand in her hair, held her to him, and devoured her. The press of her silken flesh made him hunger for more. His breathing deteriorated into a desperate rasp of torture. With each inhalation, he smelled, tasted, and consumed feminine beauty. This angel was a vixen in disguise, and God help him, he wanted her.

Her small hands wrapped into his T-shirt, then she stroked his stomach, flexing her fingertips against the fabric and straining against him. He dropped his lips to her neck, and she moaned. That perfect purr fanned his desperation. Her goose bumps flashed under his tongue’s caress, and she shuddered with each whipping kiss.

She tasted of sweat and tear gas, of soft woman, and carnal ambition. There wasn’t a timid thing about Mia. Who was he to assume what she wanted? To think she needed soothing and caring? It seemed all she needed was him. Hard. Tough. Possessive.

Her grip on him flexed again against his taut muscles. She looked so fragile, but good God almighty was he wrong. She strained to spread her legs. Their position on the front seat didn’t give them a lot of room, but he was all over her, making the most of their confinement. Her head dropped back with a deep gasp, leaving her neck open for his teeth to rake against the delectable skin.

After forging a path up her neck, he ate at her lips again. She pushed toward each rough kiss, begging more of him. He leaned into her, hungering for the sweetness of her flesh. His swollen cock pushed into his pants zipper. And the hell of it was she knew it. Little Miss Khaki-and-Cardigan, the same one who looked like a preppy librarian, wanted him and wasn’t keeping it to herself.

Her hand dropped from his abs, slow and deliberate, to his hard-on, rubbing him through his pants. A rumble escaped his throat. Her nipples peaked harder, pressing through the fabric to tease him in the pale moonlight. He’d die to pluck at them, to thumb each in seductive agony until she cried out for more.

He tugged at the shoulder of her shirt with his teeth, pushing the bra strap down a delicate slope. Slow lashes of his tongue blazed toward her firm breast. Exquisite and supple.

Sharp lights flooded the interior of their pickup truck. Bright like a warning beacon. A car exited on their ramp. It sped too fast, nearing them too quick. With one deft move, Winters dropped her down to the bench, beneath the exterior line of sight, and held her in place. He heard the harsh intake of her unsuspecting gasp and felt her body go rigid under his palm. Winters narrowed his eyes to study the car as it passed. Nothing suspicious. Just the cockblock timing of a lead-footed driver.

Hell.What if it had been trouble? Here he was pawing at a woman he should protect. Some shithead wanted the package he was responsible for securing. And he wanted the woman who was now also his responsibility. Winters ran his hands from the heavy stubble on his face into his shaggy hair. Danger had never before been a powerful aphrodisiac. Why was it driving him to the edge now?

For the first time since he burst through the motel room door with tear gas, she didn’t appear to be scared or angry. Instead, she shined with lust, want, and reckless need, most likely, a mirror image of him. Hot desire pulsed through him like a dangerous toxin. Losing focus would get them both killed.

She tilted her head away from him, laughed to herself, and pushed off the seat. “Deal with stress like that, huh?”

What did she just say?

“Stress? I don’t get stressed out, doll.” She thought he needed a release fromstress? How about a release from her continuous feminine hum and sweet fragrance that she radiated? Or the breathtaking way she wrapped her hands in his shirt, pulling him close? Never mind how she struggled to open her legs to him.Heaven help him.

“So that was just…?” Mia fingered stray strands of her hair.

“C’mon, Mia. Don’t psychoanalyze me with your therapy stuff. That was what it was. A hell of a kiss.”

“That was more than a kiss.”

He needed a release, preferably by working out, pounding pavement, or engaging in a hell of a spar. Any type that didn’t come in the form of Mia Kensington. Instead, he threw an argumentative glance her way, pushed the truck into gear, slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and burned rubber as they ate pavement.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mia studied Winters at the wheel as he drove. He acted relaxed with one hand thrown over the steering wheel like they hadn’t been someone’s target practice all day long, just as he had the moment before his lips met hers. She never saw it coming. Maybe wished it. Wanted it. Thought about it. But never anticipated it.

The kiss was hot and wet. Needy. His tongue slashed across hers, and his cheek stubble rasped her skin. With each graze of it, her stomach flipped. His raw masculinity rolled through her like a bulldozer. The sudden onslaught set her nerve endings afire. Her body ached for him, craving more. The whole thing lasted only moments, but it felt like a wonderful eternity. She had been lost in him. And when he drew away, a coldness slapped its frosty fingers across her skin.

She hadn’t been thinking, only feeling. And she wanted to crawl back onto him. Her blood still boiled for him, but heck if she’d let him see that. He was cool and collected, and focused on the road.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Oh well, she could at least pretend to be in the same ballpark of awareness. She could do disinterested and bored. Her interest was purely a subjective awareness of him as a virile man, and the result of enough adrenaline to kill an elephant. Psychology was on her side for this one.

His arm, no longer slung over her, rested close as they drove in silence. This would have been awkward if he acted like he gave a damn. Which he obviously didn’t. She pouted.

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