Moving his hands to the car on either side of her, his hips pressed against her, wanting her to feel what her body was doing to his. She did. And she moaned.
“I’ve wanted to touch you since the second I saw you step onto that stage tonight. And not for the reasons you’re thinking.” Scattering featherlight kisses over her shoulder, he rocked into her again, obtaining yet another gratifying sigh from her mouth.
Her head tipped back and he obeyed her silent request, skirting his lips up the side of her long, delicate neck. Her legs swayed slightly and he moved a hand to her hip, securing her body in place.
“And what were your reasons?” she asked breathlessly, barely audible. Dammit, she was wearing down his self-control. It was already paper thin.
“You weren’t just sexy. There was a sincerity in the way you moved,” he started, shifting his hand from her hip to her stomach so he could press her tightly against his chest. “Confidence.” His hand continued its journey up her body, cupping firmly as he reached the underside of her breast.
Watching her dance had turned him on, and just replaying that image of her onstage in his mind was getting him worked up. Watching her dance had been like watching a woman pleasure herself. A woman knowing what she liked, secure and assertive enough to give herself the pleasure she needed and deserved along with the unabashed confidence to allow him to watch—there was nothing sexier. And that’s exactly how he felt seeing her on that stage: as if she was allowing him a peek into her intimate desires. Desires that only she knew, but ones he desperately wanted to learn.
“I want to feel you move against me. I want to see that graceful body need my touch the way I need to touch you,” he said, brushing his thumb across her nipple, feeling it harden under the fabric of her dress.
She squirmed, arching into his hand. “Rafe,” she pleaded, her ass pressing against his hard-on. It was as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to rub against him or wiggle from his grasp. “Get in the car.”
His mouth stilled against her flesh at her command, desperately fighting the urge to smile. Fuck, he wanted to get in that car. His body ached with the anticipation her words held. But he liked this game, her fight for control. And he was going to enjoy watching it siphon away beneath his touch.
Her hand moved to the door handle and she lifted, but their bodies were still pressed against the door, preventing it from opening. “Now,” she whispered with an authority that made his dick jerk.
Cupping her breast more firmly, he grinded into her from behind. Her head rolled back in satisfaction and a soft moan unfurled from her parted lips. “Ask me nicely,” he demanded.
She laughed once, her sweet voice taking on the shrill of a vixen. “Please,” she answered.
Ah, hell. That word mewling from her lips whispered against his senses and did things to his accelerating pulse that he was damn near ashamed to admit. He fucking loved hearing it, and he knew then and there hearing her beg would be his undoing.
The warning rang sharp in his ear, like a quick whip of lightning. Since when did Rafe Murano let the breathy pleas of a woman unravel his strategically contrived approach to sex? He’d already severed any possible link he possessed that would tether his dick to anything outside of immediate gratification.
Fastening his lips on her neck, he sucked gently. He was overthinking this. She’d offered him exactly what he wanted—a temporary remedy to his lascivious ailment. And he was going to take her up on it.
Quickly grabbing on to her hips, he pulled her into him once more, enjoying the way she felt settled against him. He forced his hands to let go and walked around the back of the car, once again cramming his body into the tight confines of the passenger seat. The second his door shut, she crawled onto his lap. His eyes widened and he lost the ability to think. Her dress hiked up around her waist as she straddled him and Rafe took the open opportunity to run his hands along her bare thighs. Her flesh was smooth underneath his fingers until chill bumps bloomed beneath them, further confirming his dexterity. Wanting to strip her from her clothing and trail his fingers along every plane of exposed skin had him digging his fingertips into her thighs to prevent him from doing just that. It’d been so long since he’d felt a hunger for a woman’s body in the way he did for Fallon’s. He didn’t just want to have her; he wanted to explore her, satisfy her, bring her to a numbing orgasm by his fingers alone. He couldn’t process the reasons for his abrupt, curious greed. But he wouldn’t be appeased until he had it. Until he felt her convulse and quake above him.
Goddamn. What the fuck was wrong with him?