Page 95 of Her Possessive Daddies

"Perfect timing." Donovan's fingers brush mine as I collect his empty glass. "I was hoping to give you a ride home."

The double meaning in his words makes me shiver. "Let me grab my things and finish up."

I hurry to the back room, my heart racing. Tessa catches my arm as I collect my purse.

"Girl, the way that man looks at you should be illegal." She fans herself. "Go get some."

"Don't wait up." I wink, checking my lipstick in the mirror.

When I return, Donovan is standing by the bar, all raw masculine energy. His eyes darken as they rake over me, now free of my work apron.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" His hand finds my waist, burning through my thin shirt.

"Lead the way."

The night air hits my flushed skin as we exit. His truck sits in the lot, big and powerful like him. Before I can reach for the door handle, he presses me against the cool metal.

"Been thinking about you all night." His breath fans hot against my neck. "The way you move behind that bar. You drive me crazy."

"Show me." I grab his shirt, pulling him closer.

His kiss is demanding, tongue sliding against mine as his hands grip my hips. I moan into his mouth, already aching for more.

"Get in." He growls against my lips. "Before I take you right here."

The promise in his voice makes me weak. I climb into his truck, pulse thundering with anticipation. His hand finds my thigh as he starts the engine, fingers tracing patterns that make me squirm.

"Your place or mine?" He asks, voice rough with need.

"Surprise me."

49

DONOVAN

The engine hums a deep, throaty melody, a fitting soundtrack to the city lights that blur into streaks of neon as I navigate the quiet streets. My hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, finds its way to Abbie's thigh, the warmth of her skin beckoning through the thin fabric of her skirt. I can't resist. She's an irresistible siren's call, and the way she squirms in her seat, her breath coming in short, telling gasps, only fuels the fire within me.

"Donovan," she murmurs, a note of caution laced with something far more potent in her voice, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Eyes on the road."

I steal a smoldering look in her direction, and the sight of her nearly undoes me—lips parted in invitation, cheeks tinged with the most enticing shade of pink. "Can't," I admit, my voice emerging as a low growl. "Not when you're sitting there, looking like pure sin."

Her laughter is soft, a sound that seems to dance along my nerve endings, igniting a trail of fire in its wake. "You're going to get us killed," she chides, though the playful tone undermines any real reprimand. And then, as if her body is acting on its own volition, she subtly parts her legs, granting me access to the sweet, scorching heat at her core.

“Worth it,” I mutter, my fingers sliding higher, tracing the hem of her skirt. She gasps, her hips lifting slightly, and I grin. “You’re not exactly stopping me.”

“I should,” she says, but her hand comes down on mine, not to push it away but to keep it there. “God help me, I don't want to.”

“I’m a great driver,” I say, my hand slipping under her skirt now, the fabric bunching up around my wrist. “Multitasking’s my specialty.”

She laughs again, but it’s cut short as my fingers find the silky fabric of her panties. “Donovan,” she breathes, her hand tightening on mine.

The fabric is damp under my touch. “You’re not driving,” I remind her, my voice teasing as I slip underneath, finding her slick and ready. She moans, the sound vibrating through her and straight into me, a guttural punch that lights a fire in my veins. “But if you want me to stop…” I taunt, already knowing her answer.

“Don’t you dare,” she says, her hips canting up to meet my hand, her body speaking a language I’m fluent in. I can’t help the grin that splits my face, my fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, each pass stoking the fire higher. A sound rips from her throat, needy and raw, that makes me want to pull this damn car over and take her right here on the side of the road.

“You’re killing me,” I say, my voice strained, the effort to keep the car straight on the road a testament to my willpower. “You know that, right?”

“Good,” she says, her eyes fluttering shut as she arches into my touch, her body a live wire under my hands. “Now keep going.”

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