“I wantyou,dammit.” He grinds his pelvis into mine, and I arch my back in answer, a cry escaping me. “I’ve wanted you since my first day as a free man.”
“Take me.” I want to give him myself and in exchange, I want to take all his pain from him.
A growl of frustration tears from his throat. With a look of torture, Drew raises up on his elbows and glares down at me. And I see the moment he breaks. The moment he surrenders to his desires.
His right hand grips the top of my off-the-shoulder dress, and with one deft tug, my left breast is free.
His hot mouth closes over it. I gasp and arch up into him, pleasure shooting through me.
“Drew… oh God…”
He moans against me in answer.
Before this moment, I used to wonder what all the fuss was about. Whenever a man found his way under my top, I was content to patiently let my partners grope their way beneath my bra in anticipation of the moment they would eventually take their attentions south.
But the fever of Drew’s mouth and the worship of his tongue are twin revelations. It has never felt like this. Spikes of pleasure and longing have me lifting off the hood of the car. All I can think about is how close he is to my heart. As though he is discovering what it holds for him. Discovering. And welcoming.
And it’s the most erotic experience of my life.
I close my eyes, drowning in the sensation, dimly aware that I could come — actually come — from this alone. And then he pushes down my dress, freeing my right breast now, and the ecstasy begins all over again. But this time, his work-calloused hand claims the left with a jealous touch.
“Drew,” I gasp his name, uncertain how much more I can take. I want to reach for him, pull him into me, but the sleeves of my fallen dress now have me pinioned by the arms. All I can do is clutch his hair at the roots.
“I need you,” I whisper.
My honesty feels like a gift I want him to accept. My words could not hold more truth. It isn’t just his touch I need and crave, though I do. It’s him. What I hold for him in my heart may be new, but it also feels like it’s always been his to claim.
We’re supposed to be together. There’s just no doubt in my mind. I only have to show him.
“Oh, I need you,” I say again, and this time the words come out louder, more plaintive.
His mouth leaves my breast. “Right here, baby,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing me again. But this time one hand glides down my side until his fingers reach the back of my left thigh. He strokes me lightly from the top to the back of my knee, coaxing a high-pitched hum from me.
Drew echoes it with his own deep rumble.
I free my right arm and stroke his cheek. His jaw is chiseled, stubbled. My fingers trace his beauty as we kiss. His breath deepens against me as the hand on my leg glides up again. This time all the way up to the edge of my panties.
My free hand rides down the line of his jaw to his neck where his pulse is racing. This proof of his excitement undoes me. He palms the side of my hip, running his hand up and down over the elastic of my panties. Drew’s breath is jagged, and I realize he’s waiting. Waiting for a signal from me.
I close my eyes and bring my lips to his ear. “Oh, God, yes.”
Drew yanks my panties down to my thighs. His weight leaves me and silk slides off my feet. I open my eyes to see him standing between my knees, but when I try to sit up to reach him, he presses a hand against my shoulder.
Our eyes lock as he wraps a hand around my right ankle and anchors it to the front bumper of the car. He grabs my other leg and tugs me toward him. I slide free down the hood with such momentum that I throw my arms out to the side to catch myself.
But before I can go ass first off the front of the car, Drew drops to his knees and throws my left leg over his shoulder.
“Drew,”I squeak. My slide down the car hood has rucked up my dress, and now Drew meets my gaze over the tangled fabric.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The two lights in the garage aren’t bright by any means, but spread out on the hood of this car with my dress bunched at my middle, there is absolutely no hiding. Yet when I take in the heat and longing in his dove gray eyes, I decide I don’t want to hide.
His hand on my ankle makes a slow journey on fingertips up to the peak of my knee and down the valley of my thigh. My breath goes shaky. He grips my inner thigh, but even this doesn’t prepare me for the press of his lips that lands between his thumb and forefinger.
I exhale a hard breath.
He’s just inches from me — from my root chakra. The place of grounding. Of stability. Of the most basic needs. I close my eyes and feel its red glow. In this moment, I have no doubt I’m right where I need to be.