Page 85 of Crash Course
His eyes fluttered closed, and he tipped his head back. She'd love to know what he might be thinking. What little fantasy rolled in his brain.
Whatever it was, he let out a low groan and Cilla’s body responded. Every nerve ending exploded, sending tingles rocketing from her crotch straight to her nipples.
She had to have him.
They’d be perfection together. She knew it. A couple of feral animals going at it. Hard, fast, and completely unhinged.
The release would be amazing.
She dragged her fingers over him, getting dangerously close to the button on his jeans and then stroking back up as she leaned in, getting close to his ear, her breast brushing against his arm. "Tell me, Cruz," she whispered. "Do you like this? Is it what’skillingyou?"
"Oh, boy. Playing with fire, Cilla. Just sayin’."
She licked his ear. A fast strike that made him flinch. "What if I like fire?"
He turned his head, met her gaze, his focus laser sharp. "Then I’d roll you on your back and make you come in no less than ten different ways that would make us both extremely happy.Ifthat’s what you wanted."
She considered that. What woman could spend time with a man like Cruz—kind and honorable and . . . protective . . . and not want him inside her?
Not her. That’s for sure. She wanted everything he’d give. "Go for it," she said.
14
Cruz hadto be out of his mind.
Jesus, he was like a horny teenager about to humiliate himself.
But she’d just green-lighted him and in the state he was in, his very hard state, his body had drop-kicked any rational thought about taking this slow and her being a client, blah, blah, blah.
All he knew was he’d never had a client put her hands on him like this.
Madness. Fucking fantastic madness.
Lifting his free hand, he dug his fingers into her hair, gripping the strands lightly. "You sure? Tell me to stop and I’ll stop."
"I wouldn’t have told you to go if I wanted you to stop. I say what I mean, Cruz. Always."
Go time.
In an instant, she was on her back, the two of them frantically tugging at each other’s clothes, working zippers on jeans and trying like hell to maneuver out of them. Damn, he was about to explode.
Condom. Fucking condom.
Shit. Wallet. He had an emergency one there. But,shit, shit, shit!Where was it? Probably in his suite.
No. Wait.
Glove box. He’d thrown the wallet in there after lunch in Asheville. Had he taken it out? He shook his head. Couldn’t remember.
"Wait." He hopped to his feet. "Don’t move, Cilla. Don’t fucking move!"
"What?" She gawked at him. "Where are yougoing?"
Zipping his jeans, he jumped off the tailgate and threw his hands up. "I wasn’t prepared for this! We were supposed to be stargazing and you turned into a horny wench. I need a condom. My wallet better be in my glove box or I’m going back to the house tent-poled."
Behind him, Cilla cracked up, the full belly laugh that split his face into a smile he couldn’t help. What a freaking fiasco.
He hustled to the passenger side, ripped open the door, and popped the button on the glove box.
