Page 36 of Off Limits

He drives us to a secluded lookout and unbuckles his seatbelt, moving the seat back as far as possible—which isn’t far, because he needs all the room he can get anyway. Then he turns to face me, moving toward the center of the split bench seat. “Come here,” he says in a low, rumbly voice. “Let me kiss you again. Let me do it right this time.”

Guh. Like he did it wrong the last time?

But I’m not going to argue. If he wants a chance to “do it right this time,” who am I to tell him no? I fumble with the seatbelt for a second, my hands clumsy with my desire to fling the seatbelt off my body as quickly as possible, but I finally push the stupid button and release myself, meeting him in the center.

His big hands wrap around my hips and pull me close as he leans in, his lips finding mine in a sweet caress of a kiss. I’d expected hunger and heat and teeth and tongue based on his looks and his tone of voice, but instead I get gentle playfulness. No complaints, though. None at all.

His fingers slip down and knead my ass, and he scoots me as close as possible without outright pulling me into his lap. Does he know I’d be good with climbing in his lap? I’ve wanted to climb him like a tree for ages. That night in the hallway at the party? Never have I wanted to more than then. Until now, that is.

But he plies me with soft, playful kisses, tiny nips of his teeth, and then, at long last, his tongue joins the party. His lips part, and his tongue slips just inside my mouth, like he’s testing the waters.

Well, come on in, the water’s fine.

I open for him, my tongue sliding against his. He lets out a soft groan, turns his head for a better angle, and dives in. His big hand slides up to cradle the back of my head, holding me steady while he plunders my mouth.

This is more like what I was expecting. And he’s definitely doing it right. Again, it wasn’t wrong before, but holy hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like this, with this mix of reverence and heat and dedication.

He’s extremely thorough, and I want more.

My hands clutch handfuls of his shirt, and I struggle to get closer. I want on top of him. I want under him. I want his hands on me, that thorough, thorough mouth on me, I want …

I make a sound of frustration that has him pulling away immediately, the concern on his face highlighted by the lone streetlight slanting through my window. “What’s wrong? Did I—”

I cut him off with a shake of my head before he can trip down the road of blaming himself. “No. You didn’t do anything. I just …” I push at the seat back with my arm. “It’s so cramped in here, and I can’t do all the things I want.”

A sly grin curves his lips, and he lets out a raspy chuckle. “Oh baby, I know exactly what you mean. But my house isn’t really an option, and I didn’t know what the situation with your roommate is like in terms of guests, and I didn’t want to assume anything …”

His sweet uncertainty is so endearing that I have to kiss him again. I wedge myself into his lap, and he scoots more into the middle so I don’t accidentally hit the horn with my ass, his face the picture of happiness, like a kid on Christmas morning. Then my mouth is on his again, and he lets out another sexy groan as I rub myself against him. God, I wish we weren’t both wearing jeans. A skirt would be perfect right now. I wish I’d known ahead of time I’d be going on a date ending in a car make-out session. I would’ve picked far different clothing, and not just because of his restaurant choice.

His hands land on my hips again, guiding my movements, and fucking hell, that’s the hottest thing ever. He’s so big, yet so gentle. So sweet, but not afraid to take charge and give us both what we want.

He’s perfect.

I don’t let that thought run away with me, though. It’s too early for this to be serious. We’re having fun, seeing where things go, and if this is the kind of fun I have to look forward to, then it’ll definitely be an enjoyable ride.

He pulls his mouth from mine, his head thrown back against the seat back, his throat working as he swallows. But his hands on my hips keep me moving over him, and my god, this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, this big, sweet man coming undone underneath me.

All too soon, his fingers dig in, stopping me. I try to move, because while that friction isn’t anywhere near enough, it’s all I’ve got, and I don’t want it to stop. But his vice grip holds me in place. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes find mine, and he gives a tiny shake of his head. “You gotta stop,” he rasps. “I can’t take anymore.”

A wicked smile comes to my face that I couldn’t suppress even if I wanted to. I really was making him come undone.

His hand slips under my hair and pulls me in for a sweet, gentle kiss like the ones we started with, then he rests his forehead on mine, his eyes closed. “God, I’d love nothing more than to spread you out and make you come.”

I make an involuntary sound of desire, a cross between, “Guh,” and “Ungh.”

His gaze on me sharpens, and he glances around the cab of the truck, then out the windows into the clear, crisp night. I follow his gaze, noticing that we’re still alone out here, before finding his eyes again. “You’d like that?” he asks. “You want me to make you come out here, with the chance of getting caught?”

Do I? I mean,yes, of course I want him to make me come, but he’s right that someone could show up at any moment. I’ve never thought of myself as an exhibitionist before, but something about the possibility of getting caught has the tight coil of desire centered between my legs pulling even tighter.

“You do like that idea,” he says, even though I haven’t given him a verbal answer.

But I nod, because it’s true, and from the surprised excitement of his voice, he likes it too.

He slides me off his lap onto the seat next to him and scoots back toward the driver’s side, pulling me with him so there’s room for me to lean back against the door. He reaches behind me and makes sure it’s locked, then guides me back, kissing me the whole time.

I could lose myself in his kisses, and never be sorry for it.

Leaning over me, one hand braced on the seat under my back, his other hand slides down my torso, over my breast, spanning my waist, caressing the valley before the rise of my hip, and then tracing the waistband around to the button and zip of my jeans.

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