Page 91 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“You’re one to talk. Lola got more kisses than me. It seems she claimed you as hers,” I tease as I push a hand playfully against her face when she comes close and makes a show of sniffing at me. She grabs my arm, her laugh ringing out above the warm night air rushing in the windows, and she tries to wrestle it away.

I let her win. Let her grab my hand and link her fingers through it, tangle us as if we’re not already entwined. Am I a sap if I admit I like this? A relaxing day, a casual dinner at a roadside diner, and a beautiful woman in the cab of my truck. There’s only one thing that could make this day better, and I sure as fuck plan on making that happen once we get back home.

A skirt and cowboy boots? What sane man says no to that?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“Today.”

“What about it?”

“How it was just what the doctor ordered.”

“How so?”

“It was good to get away from the city.”

“It was.” She nods.

“And it was nice to get to do something for you for a change.” She squeezes my hand in response as I roll up the windows. “You have spent so much time and effort on me.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

“You deserved a proper date.”

“You just wanted to see me dressed up in my skirt and cowboy boots again,” she laughs.

“Now that . . . I won’t deny.” Images of her laid out in the batting cage with her legs spread, skirt pushed up around her hips, and her hands wrapped around the netting fill my mind. “Seeing your legs in anything is a turn-on.”

The truck falls silent as I check my mirrors and take a right on the lone highway back to town.

“You mean these legs?”

I glance her way to find her shifted in her seat, back against the door, with one leg bent so her thighs are spread. But with the dimming sky and the shadow of her skirt, I can’t see shit.

And fuck how I want to see what’s beneath it, even though I already have the taste, the scent, the feel of her pussy imprinted on my damn mind.

“Yes. Those. Legs,” I murmur, as desire fires my blood and my dick hardens at just the thought of her. I glance up to find her eyes trained on mine. The damn woman is testing me, taunting me, and it’s hot as hell.

“About those brownie points . . .”

Music to my ears.

“Yeah? What about them?” I may feign nonchalance, but fuck if she can’t hear that restraint in my voice snapping string by string.

She doesn’t answer, not with words, anyway. It’s the hitched sigh of hers that catches my ear and almost makes me jerk the truck off the road when I find her with legs spread wider and fingertips moving in the darkness I can’t see between her thighs.

God. Fucking. Damn.

The road, Easton. Look at the road.

I glance to the straightaway then look back to her. To her fingers hidden beneath the white pair of panties. To her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. To her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt. To her panting breath that turns into a moan as she fingers herself.

“Eyes on the road, Hot Shot,” she murmurs.

“Now, that’s just not fair,” I groan, but obey only for a second before my eyes are back on her.

On her eyes. On that slow, seductive smile with her teeth still biting into that lip.