Page 26 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

“Yeah?” he asks.

I nod, then smile. “Yeah.”

The kiss is instant—andfilthy. There’s no slow build, no tentative lean-in. His mouth is on mine as his hand slides into my hair, the other braced on the frame of the SUV, and I lose track of air and thought and literally everything excepthim.

I fist his jeans as our mouth clash, dragging him in closer by the waistband. He groans against my mouth as he tilts my head, deepening the kiss even more. It’s heat and hunger and instinct and the worst idea I’ve had all week; and god, Ican’t stop.

Next thing I know, I’m being lifted into the back seat. It’s a tangle of limbs, swearing, and dignity loss.

“Are we—oh my god—we’re doing this?” I gasp, my legs wrapping around him out of sheer survival.

“Only if you want to,” he says, breath hot on my jaw. “Say stop, and I stop.”

“I hate how respectful that is,” I mutter.

“File a complaint later.”

His hands slide under my dress, and I realize instantly that I’ve made a terrible mistake wearing something this easy to peel. He nudges the fabric higher, crowding into my space.

“You smell like trouble.”

Boy, you havenoidea.

“And you smell like... testosterone and bad decisions,” I pant. “So.”

He grins and bites my earlobe. “Perfect match, then.”

I groan—because of the bite, because of the banter, because I’m basically vibrating out of my skin.

“I don’t usually do this,” I whisper, even as I hook my fingers in his belt loop.

“Do what?”

“Let gym rats with commitment issues get to second base in a car park.”

He laughs, low and pleased. “You’re not even at second base, baby.”

Baby.

Baby.

My clitthrobs.

“Don’t call me baby,” I snap, breathless.

“Noted,” he says, absolutely not noting it. “What should I call you while I’m making you come?”

I go momentarily blind.

He grinds against me, cock hard behind his zipper, before one of his huge hands slips beneath my panties.

“You’re drenched,” he groans.

“And you’re overdressed.”

His belt buckle clinks as his fingers circle my clit, and I swear, I nearly levitate.

“Holy shit,” I gasp. “What the hell is happening to me?”

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