Talking Dirty With the Boss(46)

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same.”

“No, I can’t.” Another pause. “I get under your skin?”

God, she had no idea. Irritating him, tempting him, driving him crazy. Even the way she had her finger in her luscious red mouth now was giving him the most inappropriate thoughts. “Unbelievably.”

“What about the fact that we’re supposed to be keeping our hands off each other? Workplace rules and stuff.”

Frustration, desire, and that raw possessiveness coiled tighter. How strange that she was the one thinking about the rules while he couldn’t give a toss. When all he wanted to do was have her on the bonnet of one of his cars, wipe out the hurt he’d seen in her dark eyes. Replace it with pleasure.

He had to force himself to think. “Yes, but we’re not at work today. And if we stop by tomorrow, we won’t technically have broken any rules.”

Her brows twitched. “Very logical. I like it. So…how much do I get under your skin then?”

She was so close—the spicy, earthy scent of her making him hard. And abruptly, he’d had it with the conversation. He took a step even closer. “Shall I tell you? Shall I tell you exactly?”

Her breath caught. “What kind of exactly are we talking here?”

Luke held her gaze. “When I’m around you all I can think about is touching you. Tasting you. Having you. I want to push you against that car, pull off your jeans, your T-shirt. Spread you naked against the metal. Stroke you till you’re so wet you’re dripping. Then push my cock inside you. Make you come so hard you scream.”

Her finger dropped from her mouth. “Oh,” she said in a husky undertone. “That kind. You’re quite good at this talking dirty thing, you know?”

Yeah, he was getting some idea. Luke stepped forward again and this time he didn’t stop, putting his hands on her hips, pressing her up against the car as he’d promised. She didn’t pull away, looking up at him from beneath gold-streaked dark lashes. “If I don’t have you right now, I’m going to go out of my mind,” he said, his voice rough-edged. “So if you don’t want this, you’d better tell me to stop.”

She raised her hands and put them against his chest but didn’t exert any pressure, her fingers resting lightly on him. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. But you know what? I’m sick of worrying about it. And I’m not much for following good ideas so…” She slid one hand up and around behind his head, her fingers threading through his hair. “You should kiss me. Right now. Before I change my mind.”

Luke didn’t need any more encouragement that that. He bent his head, found her mouth already waiting for his, and took what she offered. The kiss exploded through him like pressing the accelerator down on the Veyron. All speed and the rush of adrenaline. The sense of hurtling toward something very, very fast.

It made him want to let go, throw caution to the wind the way he did in a fast car. Made him want to be wild and reckless and out of control. And then her mouth opened under his and he tasted her own wildness, her recklessness, and it was like his own.

He moved his hands up her body, easing her T-shirt up with it, and she raised her arms so he could pull it off her. Then he reached around and unclipped her bra, letting it fall, baring her. She shuddered as he cupped the softness of her breasts in his hands, arching back against the car and gasping as he bent, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking on her.

She was like one of his compulsions. Or an addiction. And this was definitely the way to handle it.

His hands moved down, pulling at the button on the fly of her jeans, easing the zip down. Her hands had found their way under his T-shirt, sliding over the bare skin of his chest, caressing him the way she’d caressed the metal of the car earlier. “Luke,” she whispered as he eased down her jeans, taking the little lacy thong she wore with them. “Perhaps we should slow down.”

But he wasn’t going to be able to slow down. He was racing now, around the track, faster and faster. There was no stopping and definitely no slowing down.

Desperation had him in its grip and he couldn’t get free. She was finally here, safe in his house and yet for some reason it wasn’t enough. She’d been hurt and he had to fix it. Make sure she didn’t think about the man who had hurt her again. Wipe the bastard off the freaking map.

He pulled her jeans off her, trying to be patient and failing. Eventually, he picked her up in his arms, carried her over to the Ferrari, and laid her down on the bonnet.

His fantasy was going to happen now. Right now.