Page 15 of Playing Doctor

Heat. Had a man’s mouth ever felt so hot? Greed consumed her. Her fingers fisted in his hair and tugged. His groan slid past her lips and over her tongue. Blood pounded in her ears, flooded her sex. The sounds of the wedding reception faded away completely and nothing existed except Gabriel’s mouth on hers…and the person yelling his name.

Beth reluctantly broke the seal of their lips, slid her fingers free of the silky strands of his hair and sat back in her chair. She gave Gabe a look that was much steadier than she felt and licked the taste of him from her lips. “Someone is calling for you.”

“I don’t care.”

She would have laughed at the disgruntled reply if he didn’t look so serious and if she weren’t feeling every bit as frustrated as he appeared to be. Every fiber of her being wanted to grab his hand and run away, to hold on to this wonderful feeling for a little while longer. To take it even further.

Then do something about it.

He beat her to the punch. “Let’s get out of here…get a drink.”

“Yes.” Her reply came out in a rush.

Someone called out his name again. When he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, Beth expected to be led out of the tent, but he pulled her in, fisted his hand at the back of her jacket and took her mouth in a quick, hard kiss. “Let me change out of this tux and I’ll meet you at your car in ten.”

The sex-you-up grin was back, and it told Beth that Gabriel North had more on his mind than drinks.

…

Gabe stopped, looked around the parking lot, and swore. If he’d been thinking with the head on his shoulders instead of the one in his pants, he would have thought to ask Beth what she was driving. Shouldn’t be that hard. He figured her for something classy—maybe the black Cadillac CTS or the white Chrysler 300 SRT. His gaze skipped past the sleek muscle car…then swung back.

No fucking way.

Yep, there she was, those curvaceous hips leaning against the front fender of a classic black on blue, ’69 Super Sport Chevelle. The car shouted muscle, power, and attitude, all waiting to be unleashed at her will, controlled by her hands. His brain took an instant dive for the gutter, suffused with juvenile images of steamy windows and the car rocking on its springs while Beth straddled him in the back seat and rode him to sweet oblivion. Sweet hell, he couldn’t decide which one he wanted to get his hands on first.

“So, how would you like to do this?”

On the hood. In the back seat. Up against the door. Gabe’s lust muddled brain tossed out one sexual scenario after the other. However, the curious look on Beth’s face and the way she twirled the set of keys on her forefinger suggested she’d meant something else altogether, and she appeared to be waiting for an answer. Right. Drinks in the city.

“Why don’t I follow you to your hotel, drop off your car and we can take mine from there?” There was no point in making a return trip to the estate for one of the vehicles, because any way they did it, Beth would end up making the drive back to the city alone. There was no way he was sending a woman out by herself, in the dark, in unfamiliar territory.

The keys made another circle on her finger, and then snapped against her palm. She looked at him, no expression, just her blue eyes locked on his, and then said, “That works for me.”

Gabe blew out a breath and gave the muscle car one last covetous look. Man, he’d love to get behind all that power just once. As if reading his mind, Beth grinned, held out her hand and offered him a set of keys with a small tag on the ring that read, My foot and your ass need to meet. Her brow quirked. “Would you like to drive mine?”

“Oh, yeah.” They exchanged keys.

“I’m betting you know how to handle a stick.”

“I’ve never had any complaints.” He tossed the keys in his hand. The pink stain on her cheeks acknowledged the sexual innuendo. The flash of heat in her eyes said she was interested. Yeah, things were looking up.

“He likes a soft foot on the clutch and a heavy one on the gas.” Her voice was a little breathy, an octave lower than usual. He might not make it through the drink.

“I’ll be gentle.”

She smoothed her hand over the fender, but her eyes remained steady on his. “Don’t be, he likes it rough.”

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