“Coward.”
“I won’t be baited.”
“You’re scared to make out with me.” In one motion, he pulled off her bulky sweatshirt and tossed it on top of the discarded cooler. “Scared you won’t be able to handle me. You are one big scaredy-cat.”
“I am not.”
“Scared to show me what you’ve got. Scared you won’t measure up to all those thousands of women in my past.”
“There aren’t thousands of women in your past.”
His grin looked so much like a fox’s that she could almost see the chicken feathers stuck to his mouth.
Her heart thudded against her ribs. She was frightened, aroused, and amused all at the same time, which made it difficult to frown and sound grouchy. “Oh, all right. I guess I’ll make out with you. But keep your hands to yourself.”
“That’s not fair since I’m gonna let you put yours wherever you want.”
A dozen locations sprang to mind. “I’m sure I won’t want to.”
“I seriously hope that’s not true.” He switched off the dome light and plunged them into darkness so thick she felt as if the stars had been turned off.
Her eyes gradually adjusted enough to make out his shape, if not his features. He cupped her shoulder, and she felt him come close. “Maybe you just need me to remind you where some of the best places are.” His lips brushed past her trashy hoop earring and settled on the tender spot beneath. “This one, for example, is a nice warm-up spot.”
She caught her breath and wondered how he knew she was sensitive there. “If you’re going to talk through this, could you at least manage to say ain’t a few times so I can fantasize?”
His lips tugged on her earlobe, right next to the gold wire, and his elbow bumped against the door. “Who could you fantasize about that’s better than me?”
“Well…” She struggled to speak as her skin turned to goose flesh. “There’s this studmuffin physicist who used to be a top-quark hunter at Fermilabs…”
“I doubt he says ain’t.” He played at the corner of her mouth. “You’re supposed to be showing me what you’re made of. So far I’m doing all the work here.”
She lost what remained of her restraint and tilted her head just far enough for her lips to meet his. The contact jolted her so that she forgot all about playing games, and as their kiss deepened, she abandoned herself to the pleasure of the erotic. She tasted beer and popcorn, along with a hint of toothpaste and something dangerous that reminded her of thunder.
“You are the damnedest woman,” he whispered.
She kissed him again. He pulled her shirttail free, and his big hands, strong and possessive, settled on the skin beneath. His thumbs trailed up the small ridges of her spine ’til they came to her bra, then he whispered against her open mouth. “We have to get rid of this, Rosebud.”
She didn’t even consider arguing. As she enjoyed the sweet invasion of his tongue, he made short work of the buttons on her blouse, despite the fact that the darkness kept him from seeing exactly what he was doing, then he released the front hook on her bra. His movements were accompanied by bumps and thuds as he banged against one part of the car or another.
He bent to take her in his mouth. Her nipples were tender from her pregnancy, and when he began to suckle her, she bucked and dug her fingers into his hair. The exquisite pain of the gentle suction left her wanting both to cry out for him to stop and beg him not to.
She knew she had to touch him as he was touching her, and she dragged at his T-shirt. The interior of the car had grown hot and steamy, and the soft cotton felt damp beneath her hands. Her shoulder bumped against the window, and she felt the moisture that had congealed on it seep through her blouse.
He helped her free his T-shirt, then turned his attention to her jeans. He pitched her shoes into the front seat, then tugged at the denim while she explored the contours of his bare chest.
She gave an oof of surprise when he whipped off her jeans and her naked bottom came in contact with the cold upholstery. The shock jolted her and suddenly everything seemed to be happening too fast. She needed to think this over, weigh the facts, consider her options.
“I didn’t… I don’t…”
“Hush.” His husky whisper filled the steamy interior as he cupped her thigh and pushed it away from its mate. She heard a soft curse.
“It’s too dark,” he muttered. “I still can’t see you.”
She stroked the contours of his pectorals and trailed her thumb over the hard point of his nipple. “Go by feel,” she whispered.
He did better than that. He went by taste, and she thought she would die from this pleasure she had dreamed of but never experienced.
“You don’t—” She gasped. “You don’t have to do that.”