Page 63 of Best Laid Plans

Outside, we linger, neither of us wanting our night to end. I check my watch, noting that it’s already after eight. “What time did you tell Jenny you’d be home?”

Natalie shrugs. “I told her I wouldn’t be too late, but we didn’t really settle on an exact time.”

I grin. “Wanna go for a drive?”

She smiles up at me, looking ten kinds of mischievous. “Sure.”

Quickly, I guide her to my car, opening her door and helping her in. “Such a gentleman,” she murmurs, her voice low and suggestive. Jesus, this woman oozes sex appeal, and I’m not even sure she knows it.

I crank the engine and reverse out of my spot. At the stop sign for the main road, I ask her, “Have you ever play Left-Right?”

“Uh, no. What’s that?”

“So, every time we come to a turn, you tell me if I should go left or right and we’ll see where we end up.”

“Ooh! Okay. Go left.”

I flip on my blinker and pull into traffic. At the next light, she directs me to go right. We continue on like this, weaving a maze until we find ourselves on an unpaved backroad. It leads to a small parking lot at the water’s edge. It’s dark, secluded, and…perfect.

“What is this place?” I ask, scanning our surroundings.

“It’s a boat launch.”

“You been here before?” I ask, petty, school-yard jealousy prickling my tone. After all, this place practically screamsmake-out spot.

“No.”

“Then how do you know where we are?”

She giggles. “The sign, you doofus.”

“What sign?” I look around again, and sure enough right outside her window is a freaking sign telling us exactly where we are.Oops.“Ah. That sign.”

She laughs again, the sound light and infectious. I reach out and brush my fingers over her cheekbone. “You’re really beautiful when you’re happy.” That didn’t come out right. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but when you smile, it just radiates.”

Thanks to the moonlight spilling in, I can see her blush. I know from our time in the pool just how far that blush reaches, and damn if I don’t want to see it again. Feeling bold, I palm the back of her neck and draw her nearer to me.

Our lips meet in a kiss so soft and sweet it puts every fairy tale to shame. But it’s not enough. I want more. And judging from the little noises Nat’s making, she agrees. I reach over and click the button on her seatbelt, releasing it. “Backseat?” I ask, like an over-eager teenaged boy.

She doesn’t answer with words. She simply climbs over the console and into the back. I follow suit. Thanks to the car seat I have for Tatum, it requires a bit of tricky maneuvering, but finally, I get her straddling me.

Our lips come together again in a clash of teeth and tongue. This kiss isn’t sweet. It’s fierce and full of want. I bite down on her bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth to soothe the sting away. She grinds into me, and I grip her ass—a cheek in each hand—like a lifeline.

The feeling of her moving over me and her hands in my hair has me so wound up, and even though I promised her we would take things slow, the head on my shoulders is at war with one below my belt. All I can think about is how fucking good it would feel to slide into her, to feel her squeezing me as I push us both toward release.

“Touch me, Alden, please.”

Keeping one hand on her ass, I bring the other to her breast, tweaking her nipple through her sexy-as-hell top. Her eyes all but roll back in her head—so fucking responsive.

“More,” she moans, and before I can do a thing, she removes her shirt, bearing her beautiful, full breasts to me. I waste no time giving my girl what she wants, kissing and sucking and nipping at her tits until she’s trembling in my lap.

“More,” she demands again, guiding my hand to the edge of her shorts. I pull back and look her in the eye, making sure she means this. She nods, and I pop the button and work my hand beneath her panties.

I find her wet and ready. Gently, I stroke two fingers over her seam, parting her. She rolls her hips and rides my hand like a fucking rodeo pro. Before I know it, she’s coming apart, calling my name, and I’m about ready to blow my load in my pants.What is it about this girl that gets me so hot?

Once she comes back down, she slumps down onto me, her cheek landing on my shoulder. I withdraw my fingers, and the sensation causes her to rock against me. “What about you?” she asks, sleepily.

“Don’t worry about me, Small Fry.”

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