It Started at Christmas...

She glanced toward him. “No, but I feel like a teenager sneaking off from a high school dance to mess around.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but she’d swear Lance’s face paled, that his grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point his skin stretched white over his knuckles.

When he didn’t comment, she asked, “You?”

“No regrets, but we don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”

“I’m sure.” He still looked way tenser than she felt a man on his way to getting what he’d been supposedly wanting for weeks should look. Which made her uneasy. Maybe they were talking too much and not having enough action.

Maybe she was boring him with all her conversation.

They were still another ten minutes from her house. What were they supposed to do during the drive?

Then again, she wasn’t the one driving so the possibilities were only limited by her imagination.

She’d always had a good imagination. A vivid imagination.

She wiggled in the seat, enjoying the car’s seat warmers. “Nice seaters you’ve got here.”

His gaze flicked her way. “Seaters?”

“Seat heaters. Yours are awesome.” Seat belt still in place, she twisted as best she could toward him and wiggled her hips. “I’m feeling all toasty warm.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but his throat worked and his fingers flexed along the steering wheel. “Things getting hot down there?”

r /> Yes, this was much better than their terse silence. This was fun. As fun as she wanted to make it.

As fun as she could imagine it.

With Lance her imagination was working overtime.

Odd because even though the thought of sex with him made her nervous, she felt no hesitation in unbuttoning her coat and slipping her arms free, and running her palms down her waist, hips, thighs, letting her fingers tease her skirt hem.

“Maybe. Give me your hand and I’ll let you check for yourself.”

“McKenzie.” Her name came out as half plea, half groan. “I need to concentrate on the road. I don’t want to wreck.”

“You won’t. I only need one hand. You keep your eyes on the road and your other hand on the steering wheel. No worries. I’ll take good care of you.”

“You think I can touch your body and not look?” His voice sounded strained.

She liked it that his voice sounded strained, that what she was doing was having a profound effect on him. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not sure.” He sounded as if he really wasn’t.

Which made McKenzie giddy inside. He wanted her. Really wanted her. She knew this, but seeing the reality of his desire was something more, was the cherry on top.

“Let’s find out.” She reached for him and he let her pull his right hand to her thigh. “See, I have faith in your ability to let your fingers have some fun. You’ve got this.”

“Fun? Is that what you call between your legs?”

Excited from how much she could see he wanted her, she reached her free hand out and ran her fingers over his fly. “It had better be what I’m calling between your legs by morning.”

“McKenzie.” This time her name was a tortured croak.

She smiled, liking the hard fullness she brushed her fingertips over. That was going to be hers before the sun came up. Oh, yeah. He really was perfect.

“You’re testing my willpower,” he ground out through gritted teeth when her fingers lingered, exploring what she’d found and become fascinated by.