He pushed her shirt up to her collarbones. She caught the fabric between her arms and her torso when she reached for his belt to pull herself closer to that bulge she knew meant sweet release. The movement brought her swollen breasts closer to his mouth and he took advantage, flicking his tongue over each nipple in turn. In some dimly functioning corner of her mind Eve realized they were making out like high school kids, his hands everywhere, clothes disarranged, unwilling to stop despite the promise of nothing but frustration at the end.
Or perhaps not. The rhythmic motions of her hips pressed her clit against the seam of her jeans, and she found a hot, tight groove. He gripped her hips as if to halt the impromptu lap dance, then his rough, reluctant groan told her the dark, swirling tide of desire had pulled him under. Fingers flexing and releasing against the curves of her bottom, he let his head drop back against the headrest as he watched her move, his eyes heavy-lidded and moss dark.
Her mouth hovered over his, teasing him in gentle payback, her tongue dancing against his parted lips until he took control, one hand sliding up to cup her head and press her mouth to his. His tongue slid inside, mimicking the thrusts and retreats of their bodies. The other hand left her hip and unerringly found her nipple again. She rewarded his accuracy with a nip to his lower lip before luxuriating openmouthed in the stubble along his jawline.
He slid the hand on her hip around to the base of her spine. The pressure intensified, edging out all thoughts of modesty, all worries about getting caught on the edge of an orgasm in the front seat of an open vehicle. The delicious, blinding pleasure came at her in honey-thick waves now, pouring from her mouth, open against the sweat-damp skin of his neck to her nipples, as hard as diamonds between his fingers, down to her core.
“Oh God,” she said as the sensations coalesced into one pounding crest that crashed through her. The rippling eddies left her slack-limbed and panting against his hard, warm body. She buried her face in his neck. His erection still strained against his jeans, a steel rod pressed to the swollen liquid heat of her body. “It’s hot as hell out here. Want to come up and share a shower?” she whispered.
“Nope.”
Feeling exceptionally relaxed and more than a little amused, she cupped his stubbled jaw, settled against him and said, “You’re a liar and a tease, Chad Henderson.”
“A consistent one,” he replied. He leaned back in the seat and tucked one hand behind his head. “You’re not satisfied?”
She cocked her head. Her hair fell in her eyes, and he lifted the other hand to tuck it behind her ear, then brushed his thumb over her mouth. She nipped at his thumb, then said, “Not as satisfied as I’ll be when we’re naked in bed and coming apart together.”
Both hands dropped to her hips, tightening there as he rested his forehead on her collarbone and groaned, “Eve. Go upstairs. Please.”
She ran her fingers into his hair and massaged the tight muscles at the base of his neck. He was strung tight, hard from his neck to his shoulders to his thighs to his cock, insistent between her legs. “Come on, Chad. Give in to the impulse. It’ll be so good, I promise. Rat’s-nest-hair-and-sore-muscles and maybe rug-burn-on-your-knees good. Your-friends-all-know-you-got-some good.”
His even breaths halted for a moment, then he said, “I know, boss. I know how good it could be. But not tonight.” Gently but inexorably he shifted her and her purse until they were both outside the Jeep. He looked up at her landing. “Go on. I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”
She climbed the stairs, gave him a little finger wave from the landing, opened the door, then locked all three bolts behind her. Only when she turned off the landing light did she hear the Jeep’s engine crank over.
A kind, gentlemanly gesture from the man who wasn’t keeping chivalry alive. So serious, so intense. Eve leaned back against the door, memories of his unyielding body against hers flickering in her skin. That much restraint hardened a man, in more ways than one. He needed a release besides the physically pounding adrenaline rush of boxing, something that would leave him soft and satiated, not bruised and scraped and sore.
She was just the woman to guide Chad down the impulsive path.
*
Well done, Detective Dorchester. You once again managed not to sleep with Eve Webber.
Air huffed from Matt’s nostrils as he shot out of Eye Candy’s alley and onto the street. Yeah, he deserved a medal for keeping his pants zipped. Just what he needed, more pieces of metal added to the jumble at the back of his dresser drawer.