Page 10 of After Party

He suddenly needed her to see that he wasn’t playing around. This wasn’t flirting, this wasn’t her pushing his buttons, or him teasing her. He would be there for her, over and over again. He would be the one man in her life to be there no matter what crazy shit she said or did. But he wasn’t always going to be easy-going about it, and he wasn’t always going to just drop her off in front of her house with a quick kiss on the lips, and she wasn’t going to be the one pulling the strings forever.

He lifted a hand and threaded it through her hair, then he made a fist and tugged, tipping her head back. Her eyes flared with heat he could see clearly even in the dim light and satisfaction and a strange mix ofconquer-herandtake-care-of-herflooded through him. “Are you drunk?”

“Does that really matter?” she asked. She wasn’t teasing him or being sassy now.

“It definitely fucking matters.”

She pressed her lips together, her eyes on his lips. She knew. She knew if she didn’t want this to happen she only had to say no. She also knew that if she didn’t want it, she could say that she was drunk and he’d let her go right now.

Finally she shook her head. “I’m not drunk. I had one drink. Four hours ago.”

Relief, sharp and hot, washed over him. But he needed more. “And do you want this?”

“What are you offering?” she asked, a bit of sass back in her tone.

He gave her a slow grin and tugged on her hair again. “Well, I do get three wishes for catching a leprechaun.”

Her eyes widened and he knew she could see every bit of his hunger for her in his eyes. She gave him a slow smile. “And what’s your first wish?”

“To show you exactly how I feel about you.” He crushed his mouth to his, kissing her as if making up for every single night that hehadn’t. He let loose everything he’d been feeling and wanting and holding back.

And she was right there with him, arching close, moaning, clutching at his shoulders, unable to move her head, but meeting his tongue stroke for stroke. It quickly became clear that his mouth wasn’t enough. Scott dropped his hands to her hips, gripping her tightly, pressing her against the car, his rock hard cock against her softness.

He slid his hands from her hips over the few inches of material until he met her bare thighs. He absorbed the silky softness, running his rough palms up and down from knee to the hem of her skirt, each time inching it higher.

Finally Peyton, being Peyton—the most impatient and impulsive person her knew—gave a frustrated little growl and ripped her mouth away from his.

She pushed him back, slid to her left, hiked her skirt up and boosted herself up onto the hood of the car. “Come here.” She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and tugged.

Scott stumbled the two steps it took to put him between her knees, distracted by the full view of her panties. Tiny. Gold. Panties.

She reached for the zipper tab that was nestled between her breasts and pulled in down, parting the front of her green dress and allowing the two most gorgeous breasts he’d ever seen to spill free from the tight bodice. No bra. Just naked breasts.

Scott realized he was staring like a dumbass, but he simply didn’t have enough blood feeding his brain cells at the moment to do anything else.

The full moon shone down on her like she was a goddess sent to tempt him. She was on the hood of his squad car, a sexy leprechaun costume now bunched at her waist, her hair tousled around her shoulders from where he’d had his hands in it, her lips swollen from his kisses. She was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

“Damn, Peyton, this is so not what I saw happening.”

“Really?” she asked, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Because I’ve seen this happening in my daydreams over and over and over.”

“Yeah?” He knew she’d said she wanted him but he had no idea when that had gone from her being a mouthy rebel trying to push his buttons to sincere.

“You in uniform doing dirty things to me on the hood of your squad car?” she asked. “Are you kidding? I’m about to come just from sitting here like this, with you looking at me like that.”

Her mouth. He’d heard her tell people off, he’d heard her fight with her dad, he’d heard her offer him a blow job, he’d heard her yell at the television at the Come Again while watching football, and he’d heard her cuss like a trucker. But he’d never heard her say something hot and dirty…and mean it.

She meant this. He could tell. And that was almost enough to make him lose it too.

“If you handcuff me, this could be over in about a minute,” she added as she spread his uniform shirt open and stroked her hands over his bare chest.

He shuddered from the impact of the emotions rolling through him.

He was aware that this was inappropriate. They were outside. Behind her house. And he was in uniform and this was his squad car and his handcuffs weren’t sex props, they were real. But he was off duty and it was St. Patrick’s Day… and he’d had to release thirty snakes out in the countryside earlier.

He fucking deservedsomeSt. Patrick’s Day fun.

And was that all just a really great excuse to do exactly what he wanted to do right at this moment?

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