her back, trying to offer what comfort he could. Her arms tightened around
him again, her hands fisting in the material at the back of his parka as she
clung to him.
Lots of victories tonight.
She sighed, her breath warm on his neck as she relaxed against
him. He cradled her closer, her soft hair teasing his cheek, her legs bumping
into his.
He was disappointed when she finally released him, but he
let go too, ducking his head to peer into her face in the dim light. He blinked,
slowly, mesmerized by her warm gaze and slightly parted lips. Uncertain.
Wondering if perhaps the vapor lamps were playing tricks on him.
Her soft hand touched his cheek and he closed his eyes, his
heart leaping in his chest. He wanted to press his cheek to her palm, but held
himself in check. He thought about Savannah. Discreet. Driven. Fully capable of
opening the door herself.
She had to be the one to make the first move. Even if it fucking
killed him.
She traced her fingers over his skin, her light touch
igniting his every nerve ending. His hands trembled where they gripped her coat
as the soft pads of her fingers bumped over the corner of his lips.
He wanted to pounce. To leap. To beg . He didn’t.
Her touch was hesitant. As if they stood on the edge of a
cliff, teetering. So close. He would gladly hurl himself off into space, into
the unknown. But would she?
He jolted at the brush of warm, soft lips along his,
accidentally jerking away as his entire body clenched with need. His eyes
flashed open to see her upturned face, her eyes closed, long lashes shadowing
her cheekbones, lips seeking his.
He watched her approach with a mixture of hope and elation.
Her mouth rubbed against his once more, her hand cupping his jaw to hold him
still as she nibbled along his lips. God, she was really kissing him. And all
he could do was stand there, heart pounding, brain stuttering as blood poured
south, the sweet ache of arousal burning through him.
He’d let her lead, let her take the leap. Then her tongue tentatively
brushed against his lower lip and he knew he had to charge after her. He had to.
Groaning, he captured her mouth and wrapped his arms around
her until her feet barely touched the ground. His lips and teeth worshipped the
full lower lip he’d dreamed about for weeks. His tongue danced into every
corner of her mouth. God, he’d wanted this. He wanted her. He shifted his legs
and she immediately slipped between them. He was so enamored with her taste,
the feel of her writhing in his arms, he was totally unsuspecting when she
checked him back against the car behind him.
Uh oh.
He grunted as his ass slammed against the cold metal, his
mind reeling, prepared to apologize, though he felt no remorse. He’d no sooner
opened his mouth when he was lost to another kiss. She slid her hip forward until
it nudged his aching cock, pinning him to the car. He gripped one firm, lush ass
cheek and held her in place as she undulated against him. He wanted to double
over as the rush of blood left him lightheaded, but he held fast. Nothing was
going to drag him away from the silky texture and cinnamon taste of Savannah’s
sweet lips.
She brought his head closer with a tug of his hair, danced her
mouth along his jaw, the stinging nip of little teeth setting his skin ablaze. He
tilted his head, granting her access, delighted by her aggression. She
fearlessly took the lead, and he relished the outright honesty of her passion.
His cock was engaged in a pitched battle with his zipper,
one he ached to end, or at least ease, but he couldn’t unwind his arms from
Savannah. Wouldn’t.
She used her long legs and his position against the car to plaster
herself against him. He could feel her heat through parka and wool and bitter
cold. He couldn’t remember any woman so determined to take what she wanted from
him. What he freely, happily gave.
She writhed and whimpered. He damn near whimpered back. She
licked and teased. He coaxed her mouth back to his and
Brad Strickland, THOMAS E. FULLER