Out of Bounds

I lift my hand, reach for her face, and cup her cheek. She gasps, and before either one of us can say another word—before I can evaluate or analyze—I dip my mouth to hers and kiss those delicious lips. She opens for me. Her tongue darts out, sliding between my lips. She nips, running her teeth along my bottom lip, and out of nowhere a quick kiss turns into a hot, dirty one.

A car horn honks from behind, and we pull apart. But the white sedan in front of me has only moved twenty feet. I drive slowly, running one hand along Dani’s leg, down to the hem of her skirt. My fingers play at the hem, and she murmurs as we slink along. Traffic crawls at a snail’s pace. My eyes drift to her legs, so toned and strong. The whole look she has working tonight is killing me.

More than that, the whole notion of resistance is killing me.

I tell myself just one touch, just one night won’t hurt a thing. It won’t harm the team, and it won’t knock me off my game.

I inch my finger under her skirt, and she lets her knee fall open the slightest bit.

“You’re so not friendly either,” she says in a playful pout.

“I’m completely the opposite right now.” My fingers travel up the soft flesh of her thighs. My dick hardens even more, hungry for this woman. She wriggles in her leather seat, as I drive slowly, so goddamn slowly. Right now, though, I’m grateful for the traffic. Because I can do this to her.

My fingers tiptoe higher, and higher still, and Dani rests her head against the leather, her mouth falling open, her breath catching. As I ascend to the top of her thigh, the pads of my fingers sliding over her soft flesh, she reaches for her tight skirt, and tugs it up higher.

Then she opens her legs.

Dani

I might be crazy.

I might be foolish.

I might be a million things.

What I am for certain is turned on beyond any and all measure.

We’re surrounded by cars, and yet totally alone in his air-conditioned electric vehicle. I know better. I get the risks. I swear I do. But right now with traffic stalled, and his hands on me, my body is in charge and it’s seeking that adverb. I want to be touched blissfully. Stroked tantalizingly. Gotten off powerfully.

Besides, this is just a little sliver of time. It’s a sealed-off moment in his automobile. This isn’t going to hurt anyone.

In fact, it seems the opposite of hurt. His touch makes my skin sizzle. Makes my insides sing with pleasure.

Drew doesn’t need any direction. He’s game and his fingers slide along the wet panel of my panties. He’s got an eye on the road, but he keeps stealing glances at me.

“Told you I didn’t feel cordial toward you right now,” I whisper.

He flashes a wicked grin as he slips one finger under the panel, making me moan. Because it feels so good when he touches me. He flicks the pad of his finger where I want him most, and I arch into him.

“I don’t want you to feel cordial right now.”

“How do you want me to feel?” I ask, my pitch rising as he strokes me. Oh dear lord, his hands are wonderful. His touch is electric. Firm, but tender, as he paints dizzying strokes up and down my center. He teases me, then traces lingering, luxurious lines along my wetness, and I rock my hips into his hand.

“Hot. Bothered. Ecstatic,” he says, as the car inches forward, one of his hands on the wheel.

“Those words all fit.” I spread my legs wider.

A rumble escapes his lips. “Yeah, do that. I fucking love that. Love seeing you get so turned on you open your legs for me.”

His dirty words are like a charge, as if someone plugged me in, and I’m electrified. His fingers travel up and down, up and down, then around and around. He centers his strokes on my clit, and the pleasure builds, rippling across my skin. Like fireworks inside me, starting small, climbing higher, then shooting up to the sky.

“Drew,” I say gasping his name as I lift my hips, my body seeking him. “It’s so good.”

He drags a finger down me slowly, then brings it to his lips and draws it between them. My eyes widen as I watch him suck hard, like he’s savoring my taste. “Fucking delicious,” he murmurs, then returns his finger to me. I nearly sing out in pleasure as he reconnects.

“If we weren’t stuck in traffic, I’d go down on you,” he says, his voice husky. “Licking your sweetness. Tasting your desire.”

As he paints a picture, I slide into a realm of pure lust. His words, his touch, my own sheer, unadulterated need—they’re all I feel right now, and they thrum inside me, like a hot vibration.

“Oh God, I want that so much,” I say on a broken pant as I thrust up against his finger. He’s not even penetrating me. He doesn’t have to. He’s simply stroking me and that’s enough right now. Just the right pressure, just the right speed. My body consists solely of nerve endings. All he has to do is keep this pace, and he’ll ignite me, like a rocket taking off for the stratosphere.