Page 55 of Healing You
“Better?” he asked.
Stars twinkled above them like a broken string of jewels flung across inky silk.
Suddenly, her heart was racing. “Steve, can I ask you something? Ronnie mentioned—”
A low laugh gushed out of him, his warm breath a nice shift from the chilled evening air. That was the thing about New England. Even in the summer, one moment it could be sweltering hot and that same evening you might need a sweatshirt. “Can we please not talk about my sister when my palm is this dangerously close to your breast?” His thumbs moved back and forth, stroking the upper area of her ribs.
“She just got me thinking—did I do something... or say something years ago to make you pull away from me?” Her voice was hoarse, concern blocking her throat.
His smile faded, as did any color in his cheeks. “Let's not do this right now.”
That was all the answer she needed. She didn't know what she'd done, but there was something. Some sort of catalyst that had been the reason he'd left her. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the effects of him standing so close to her, but her brain was foggy and she couldn't for the life of her remember doing anything to warrant him walking out like he had. “Steve—”
He moved into her, claiming her mouth. “I like when you say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you're going to swat my ass with a newspaper and put me in my crate.”
He pressed his face into her neck and shifted his hand up, his suit jacket hiding the moment when his palm connected with her breast, squeezing her through the light cotton.
He nipped her ear lightly, and she gasped, moving her palm down the front of his pants. He was hard and his hips pulsed, pushing himself harder against her hand before catching her wrist, his thumb sliding over her throbbing pulse at the base. She should have been cold, but her body felt like it was on fire. And judging from the way he was looking at her, she could guess he felt the same way.
With a quick look around the parking lot, she felt his fingers land on the insides of her thigh. Tortuously slowly, he drifted them higher and higher beneath her dress. “Did you forego the panties?”
“Yes, but not because you asked. Because I wanted to—” Her sentence ended with a breathy whimper as he stroked her with a finger, dipping it into her wet sex.
“A simple 'yes' would have sufficed.” He peppered soft, wet kisses along her throat and dipped his tongue into her ear.
His fingers quickened against her clit, and she was already devastatingly close to orgasm as she arched into his hand. With a shudder, she spread her legs a little wider as Steve set a rhythm that so perfectly matched what she needed, all thoughts and concerns cleared her mind. “I want you so bad,” she said, rocking her body against him. So bad that it terrified her.
Her grip tightened on his biceps until she was gulping for air in shaky breaths. Her legs straightened, abs tightening, and her toes curled as the spasms took hold of her body. With her hand around the back of his neck, she jerked his mouth to hers, spearing her tongue into his mouth as she ground her hips. The strong pulses eased into smaller quivers, finally dissipating entirely. After a few moments that ticked by too fast for her liking, she tried to straighten her skirt, embarrassed at how disheveled she looked. Not to Steve... no, but what if someone else walked out? Sure, their lower halves were blocked by other cars, but you never knew in this town who could be watching.
There was still an ache deep inside of her. She pulsed for him. Needed to feel Steve inside of her. Her eyes cut to the back seat and she wet her lips before looking back to him. “Please tell me you brought a condom?”
His eyes glinted, and even though she knew his eyes so well—had that pale blue color memorized —his gaze looked as black as the inky sky. “I've got one. But we're not using it, not here.”
She pushed her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Why not?”
His mouth turned up in a small smile. “Because I'm not fucking you in the back seat at my brother's engagement party.” The playful tone and arched brow softened as he bent to kiss her.
“But you're okay finger banging me in the parking lot?” she added wryly.
He shrugged, putting his finger in his mouth and licking her off of him. “Maybe another time on a less high-profile night, I'll take you in my back seat, like we did when we were teenagers. But tonight? Tonight I want you in my bed. On my couch. Maybe on the coffee table—we'll see how you feel. So... any objections to moving this party home?” he asked.
Reaching around, Steve caught the handle of the passenger door, gently pulling it open despite her body being pressed against it. She shifted, curving her body into the car and looking up at him from her seat with sultry eyes. He moved around to the other side of the car, adjusting his erection and swallowing a groan. He was harder than a choir boy in a strip club.
He slid into the driver's seat. In the distance, he could hear a cop's siren and headlights from a passing car flooded into his car through the front windshield. His muscles seized, remembering the light that entered his Jeep just before their wreck. Remembering that feeling only hours ago—the nausea, the headache, the panicked breathlessness. It was terrible—that anxiety. Uncontrollable, unrelenting panic.
He swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he lifted his keys. He could do this. He could get them home. There really was no other choice. She was drunk and it was over four miles back to their neighborhood. Fine for middle of the day in running clothes. Not fine for middle of the night in heels and a dress.
Before he could get the key in the ignition, Yvonne was leaning over the console, her mouth on his ear and her hand stroking him through his pants. And in that quick blink of an eye, he was back in high school. Instead of a BMW, it was a Jeep. Instead of a suit, he was in his prom tuxedo. And instead of a mature professional in the community, he was suddenly a horny teenager.
Her lilting laugh was the same, as was the floral smell of her hair just to the right of his chin. “Oh, God,” he rasped, and he could feel heat burning a path through his sinuses. His grip on the wheel was so tight he could feel the ache in his knuckles.
Yvonne didn't seem to notice. Her mouth was on his jaw and down his neck, her hand stroking between his legs.
“Oh, God. Fuck yeah, Eve.” He pumped his hips, lifting them off the seat of his Jeep. His baby. The car he'd saved up for since he was old enough to have a job cleaning the neighbor's chicken coop and dog-sitting.
