There were groans—his—and moans—hers—and cool hands under his shirt, nails scraping his skin, zings of electricity along his nerves, clothes tearing . . .
“Not here.” Her words. Because if he had his way, she’d already be naked and the limo driver would have been handsomely paid to take a coffee break somewhere far away.
He had a vision of himself pushing her onto the seat, flipping up that pretty skirt, and hammering into her until they both shattered in ecstasy and she screamed his name. Had he spoken those words out loud?
“Law . . . Indecent exposure . . .” Words he didn’t understand except they meant more waiting when he ached to get his hands on her, strip her naked, and make all his fantasies come true.
Insatiable, he tore open her top and flicked the catch on her bra, freeing her breasts from their restraint. Beautiful. Round and firm. Nipples hardened to deliciously dark peaks. He drew one into his mouth, licked and sucked until she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair until pain merged with pleasure, and he couldn’t think beyond doing it again.
“This is probably a mistake.”
Definitely not his words, and belied by her laughter, her frenzied pawing at his shirt, and the scatter of buttons across the limo floor. Wild. He had captured her wild and it would set him free.
Nails scraping down his chest, yanking on his belt. His cock hard and pulsing in anticipation.
“How much longer?” Fingers stroking. Hand in his boxers. The mind-numbing pleasure of her palm on his shaft.
Time didn’t matter. The need to have her was fierce and intense, demanding instant satisfaction. He wanted her. Here. Now. Hidden by blacked-out windows in the dead of the night.
With rough hands, he shoved her skirt over her hips. Red silk panties. Teasing. Tantalizing.
“Tear them off.” Her urgency pleased him, called to the animal frenzy of his lust.
“Law? Indecent exposure?”
“Fuck it.”
Her panties rendered with a soft whimper, fluttered to the floor. Soft and dark her secrets beckoned. He parted her folds and sank a thick finger deep inside her wet center. She gasped, arched against him. He gave her another finger, his free hand in her hair, holding her still, baring her neck for the heated slide of his lips.
A third finger. Gentle strokes. Hungry kisses. His thumb stroked over her swollen nub. A guttural groan and she came, her inner walls tightening around him.
Dazed, languid, she collapsed forward against his chest. He hissed in a breath when the down between her legs brushed against his cock.
“Does your fancy limo come with condoms?” Her breath was hot against his skin.
“Of course.” They kept their clients well supplied.
She moved back to accommodate him as he rolled on a condom. Then she stroked and squeezed until rational thought was a distant memory and all that was left were need and want, lust and desire. He dragged her up, claiming her mouth as he thrust inside her. Pleasure so exquisite, he closed his eyes and tried to take a mental snapshot of the moment.
Bracing herself on his shoulders she rode him, levering her hips as she brought him closer and closer to his peak.
Control. He needed it. In one swift motion he shifted, carrying her down so she lay beneath him, clothes half off, hair tangled, lips swollen from his kisses, wanton and free.
Lifting her legs to his hips, he thrust into her. Slick walls tightened, made his eyes water. His hips pistoned, driving deep until pleasure peaked and they both found release.
Skin slicked with sweat, heart pounding, he leaned over to feather kisses over her nose, her cheeks, her jaw, memorizing the moment. Drifted away.
“Jay?” The sound of his name on her lips shocked him back to a reality he wasn’t ready to face.
“Hmm.” He could stay here forever with her soft warm body beneath him, the taste of her on his tongue, the heady scent of sex and perfume lingering in the air around them.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
* * *
• • •
Zara dreamed of a drowning man.
She was back on China Beach, walking hand in hand with the head lifeguard, Clayton Heales. Zara had crushed on Clayton since she’d obtained her lifeguard certification at the age of twenty-one, but Clayton wasn’t interested. He’d called her crazy. Fun to have at a party but not to have in his bed. But now here he was, buff and tan, his blond hair glistening in the sun. It would have been perfect except for the man in the ocean.
His shouts became urgent, pulling her partway out of the dream. She buried her head, desperate not to let the moment go.
A storm rolled in, turning the calm, shallow water into a raging sea. The man disappeared and then resurfaced, panicked and splashing, unable to see how close he was to shore. With one last longing look at Clayton, she grabbed her board and ran to save him, paddling with strong strokes as the waves tossed and the rain fell. She could almost taste the man’s terror, feel his heart pound. She reached for him. Too late. He was gone.
She woke with a start. For a moment, she was still in the ocean, the shouts of the drowning man ringing in her ears. Then her mind cleared. She was alone in her bed.
“Jay?” She turned on her bedside lamp and saw Jay pulling on his boxers near the door.
“I have to get going.” His cold, hard voice and the sheen of sweat on his body told her the shouts she’d heard had not been a dream.
She glanced over at the clock. “It’s three in the morning.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Because of the nightmares.” She knew she’d called it right when he froze.
His jaw tightened and he turned away. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”
She couldn’t let him go home in the dark to an empty apartment when he was so obviously distraught. Acting on impulse, she slid out of bed and walked toward him. His gaze dropped to her naked body, and he drew in a ragged breath.
“Zara . . .” His voice caught. “I never stay overnight for this very reason.”
“That’s fine. I had no expectations beyond a fun night together. This was just temporary anyway until I found your match or we got tired of playing this game.” It wasn’t fine, but it would have to be. After their night together, she couldn’t go back to pretending she didn’t want him, but she couldn’t risk getting too involved.
When he didn’t move, didn’t reach for the rest of his clothing, she walked right up to him and wrapped him in a hug. Skin to skin. Soothing his pain away.
He stiffened but she didn’t let go. After a few minutes, she felt the tension ease from his body. His arms came around her, and he rested his cheek on her head.