Home>>read Hard and Fast free online

Hard and Fast(8)

By:Erin McCarthy


"Are you suggesting that we have sex?"

He grinned. "Well, I'm not talking about a dunk in the lake, that's for sure."

"This seems a bit impulsive."                       
       
           



       

"Sex usually is."

Ty's hand had slid farther up on her thigh, and while her intellect  might be hesitating, her body certainly wasn't. Imogen felt a jab of  desire low in her womb, and her heart rate had kicked up a notch or two  or three. She tried to ignore it. "But you're just coming out of a bad  breakup, and I don't know how I feel about being a one-night stand you  indulge in on the rebound." His hand paused in its northward trek up her  leg, and he made a sound of impatience. "It wasn't a bad breakup. I am  relieved, do you understand? Totally relieved to be done with Nikki. And  who says it has to be a one-night stand?"

"Because in most cases when two people who don't know each other very  well get naked and have sex impulsively, if they try to continue seeing  each other, they struggle to define the parameters of their relationship  afterwards. It very rarely works to engage in extreme intimacy before  you have some working knowledge of each other's personality and how you  interrelate." Ty snorted. "Ask a hundred married couples how many of  them waited more than a minute before getting horizontal. I don't see  the sense in waiting if you want someone." Damn, his hand was trekking  upward again and Imogen was struggling to concentrate on her point. She  was no longer even sure why this particular point was important, and why  she couldn't just dive into bed with Ty. Yet even under a haze of  desire, her sense of logic warred with her curiosity. She wanted to see,  to feel, what it would be like to have sex with Ty, but her logical  side said she absolutely did need to know why he wanted to get intimate  with her, and what they would do about it after the moment passed and  tomorrow rolled around.

"It's not a good idea."

Curses on her need for control, to always know the answers ahead of time. She could see the irritation growing on his face.







"Look, I'm not going to talk you into it, Emma Jean. I want a woman who wants me with zero hesitation.

But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Imogen frowned. "No, I don't. I don't know where you live or your phone  number." Ty laughed. "God, you can't stop your brain, can you? It's  always working things out." It struck a chord with her. She knew that  sometimes her logic, her need to analyze and assess and study from every  angle, was a huge detriment to just enjoying moments in life. It was  something she struggled with, constantly being the observer instead of  the participant, and it caused a twinge of shame that Ty had seen  straight through her to what she considered her one true flaw.

"There's nothing wrong with using my brain," she said defensively. "If  more people did, maybe we wouldn't have a society on the brink of a  complete breakdown, its social and moral structure decimated.

Maybe if women were in charge instead of men, we-"

Imogen squeaked and forgot what she was saying when Ty's hand slid under  her legs and started to lift her up off her seat. "What are you doing?"  she asked in a panic, reaching for the steering wheel, off balance in  more ways than one.

"Get your sexy ass over here, Beatrice," he said, dragging her across the gearshift until she was in his lap.

"So I can kiss you until you've forgotten all your logical arguments why I shouldn't kiss you."

"But . . ." She had no idea what she was going to say because her mind  went utterly and completely blank. She was sitting on Ty's lap. His hard  thighs were beneath her butt, his strong arms wrapped around her, and  his mouth was inches from hers. She could smell him, a mixture of rain  and aftershave, see the even whiteness of his teeth in the dark. He had  lovely teeth.

And he had called her Beatrice. He had understood the conversation  they'd had, given it back as good as she'd given it, even if he had  never read Shakespeare.

Did she really want to be Beatrice? Alone, arguably bitter, holding firm  to her principles? Or did she want to enjoy the moment? After all,  Beatrice had met her match in Benedick in the end.

"Stop thinking," Ty told her. "Stop worrying, analyzing, debating."

"I can't," she whispered. "I tried. It worked for a second, then it all  started again." He shifted her legs so that she was firmly on his lap  sideways. His hand settled on her waist, and she was startled by how big  it was, how much of the small of her back he covered with his spread  fingers.

"I can make it so you can't think at all."

"I have no doubt of that," she agreed.

He made a small sound, almost like a growl, and held her more firmly. "Say no now and I won't do this," he said.                       
       
           



       

Every nerve ending in her body was firing in anticipation and desire.  She had the urge to both dig her fingers into his hair and wiggle her  backside on his lap. Was she going to say no?

Yeah, right.

She'd worry about the awkwardness later. She'd stress about her thesis  tomorrow. She'd examine why he was capable of creating such a total lack  of control in her at some point down the road.

Right now she wanted him to kiss her.

"You're not saying no." His thumb was on the waistband of her jeans and  dipping down into the gap between the denim and her panties.

"No, I'm not saying no."

"So you're saying yes?"

Imogen would have thought that was obvious, but she appreciated that he  gave her time to change her mind, that he wanted to make completely sure  she was on board with what was about to happen.

She was.

"Yes, I'm saying yes."

Ty smiled, not a grin, but a slow, satisfied smile, as his amber-colored  eyes darkened considerably to a rich chocolate brown. "Gentlemen, start  your engines."

Imogen paused. What did that mean, precisely? That she had the potential  to start his metaphorical engine? That this was the beginning of a  race? Or the beginning of a relationship? That . . .

She forgot to think the second his lips touched hers. Oh. My.







He didn't hesitate, nor did he test the waters. He kissed her, and he kissed her with confidence and aggression. With fire.

It was the kind of kiss that had her mouth opening immediately, and her  fingers clawing into his hair, and her ass pressing down into his lap.  It was the kind of contact that stole the breath right out of her, made  her inner thighs ache, and her head swim with a heady elixir of  pheromones and excitement.

He swept his tongue across hers, and Imogen would have groaned if she could have gotten a breath.

Instead, she just held on to his shoulders and gave it back. She didn't  think that in general she was uptight or reserved, but she was fairly  certain she had never attacked a man so thoroughly during a first kiss  as she was doing with Ty. She was pressing her chest against his,  destroying his hair, sliding her tongue across his, and bumping her  backside against his erection.

His hands were on the move, too, caressing her back, brushing against  the sides of her breasts, heading under her sweater at the small of her  back as his kisses got more urgent and demanding.

Imogen broke away to suck in some air and stare at him in wonder. How  could he do that? How could he make her so damn hot with just a few  kisses?

Ty shifted underneath her, dumping her onto the seat. "That's it. Time to go back to my place."

"Really?"

"Really. After that look you just gave me, I could pretty much eat you  right here in the car and that's probably not a good idea."

Well. "Okay."

"Shit, sorry. I kicked your books again." Ty, half-sprawled across the gearshift and her lap, reached down and picked up a book.

Damn. It was the marriage manual. Imogen winced and fought the urge to  rip it out of his hands, which would probably only result in calling  attention to it. He did glance at the cover, but he didn't say anything,  so she didn't think he had bothered to read it, given the angle he was  at. He just stuffed it in the general direction of the bag and continued  to crawl across the gearshift into the driver's seat, his tight butt in  her face. Unable to resist, she tentatively touched him, sliding her  hands over the worn denim.

"Hey, now," he said, his voice rough. "Save that for when I can do something about it."

"What are you doing anyway?" she asked. "This is my car."

"But I know where we're going." Ty settled upright into the seat and  turned her wipers back on. He shot her a grin. "Besides, I like to  drive."