The gallery was harshly silent for a moment, and it was as if this connection between the two of them revolved around this moment. Because one week hardly seemed sufficient anymore. That he would miss her was more than apparent. That he wanted more of her was patently obvious to him now. “Or maybe when you go, you can come back from time to time,” he offered, his heart beating far too fast.
She closed the distance between them, placing her hand on his chest. “Maybe I can. Maybe I would like that.”
He let out a breath he barely realized he was holding. “Maybe I would like that, too,” he whispered, and he liked that they were saying maybe. It was a hopeful maybe; it was the suggestion of a promise, the possibility of more.
He looped his hand around her tiny waist, curving his arm around her body. She trembled under his touch. His blood heated at the way she responded, and he was tempted to press her up against the stark white wall of this gallery, between the woman in the hat and the inked drawing of a skyscraper next to her, and kiss her so hard she’d forget her name.
Drag his mouth across her skin. Hear her whimper.
“Maybe we need to get out of here right now,” she suggested.
“It’s like you can read my mind.”
“Or your body,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, and damn, if he wasn’t already hooked, she had reeled him all the way in tonight. Her easy way with him, with words and with laughter, made him want her more.
“I need to be with you,” he said, his voice a rough scrape. “Come over. Spend the night with me. Let me make you breakfast in the morning. I’m off tomorrow. We can go for a run or make Mud Pie Brownies or whatever you want.”
She parted her lips, breathed out, heat practically radiating in waves off her body. Her eyes were hazy with lust, but she managed a playful tease. “Becker, I’m gonna be blunt here. I sort of figured that’s the way the evening was going. Especially since my mom’s back in town, so I think your house is better than mine.”
Holding hands, they left the gallery and headed to his truck. He opened the passenger door and let her in, memorizing every move of her beautiful body as she buckled into the front seat. He walked around and got in his side.
“You look mighty hot on your bike, Megan. But you look even better in something a little safer.”
“Like your truck?”
“My truck. A car. Anything other than a bike.”
“You trying to tell me you don’t want me riding a bike?”
“If I had any say in the matter, that’s what I’d be saying.”
“Well, I don’t see myself abandoning my bike anytime soon, just like I don’t see you abandoning your job anytime soon, so maybe we should just call that one a draw,” she said.
“Touché.”
“But you do like the way I look in your truck, you were saying?” she said in a purr, as she dragged her hand along her thigh. He hitched in a breath.
“Now you’re not playing fair,” he said as he turned on the ignition and backed up.
“I know,” she murmured as she played with the button on her jeans, teasing him with the possibility of her undressing.
“I take it you want me to be able to drive.”
She nodded. “I do. I want to be at your house.”
The image of her spread out on his bed occupied every single thought he had as he drove to Hidden Oaks, his arms gripping the wheel tight because if they didn’t, then he’d be all over her. He could smell her in the enclosed space—the dizzying smell of that vanilla-sugar lotion she wore—and it made his mouth water for her. He’d already undressed her in his mind and was running his hands over her soft skin, his lips, his tongue, nipping at her, nibbling at that tantalizing flesh where her thighs met her backside. That delicious little line…
She squeezed his thigh as he drove, and leaned in to plant hot kisses on his neck.
“You’re making it hard to concentrate on the road,” he said.
She palmed his erection through his jeans. He wanted to grab her hand and press down hard against his dick. “Hard is sort of the plan,” she said.
He slowed at a light and turned to look at her. Her eyes were wild and playful. He moved in for a kiss, and he could feel her breath soft against his lips. But he pulled back when he was millimeters away, to give her a taste of her own teasing medicine. “You sure you don’t want me to take you home and give you a kiss good-night on the porch? Be a gentleman and all?” he asked as the light turned green and he continued down the road.
She rubbed him through the fabric of his pants. “You better be taking me to your home tonight,” she said, then paused deliberately and unzipped her jeans some, her fingertips dancing perilously close to where he wanted to be tonight.