Love at The Bluebird

“Kiss me, Gavin,” she demands in a whisper, her pupils dilated and filled with desire.

I growl my approval and don’t hesitate, snaking one of my hands up her spine, grabbing her by the back of her neck, and crashing my mouth onto hers. This kiss is the opposite of soft and slow; it’s rough and hungry, our passion for each other undeniable in this moment. Hot waves of desire roll through me every time her tongue touches mine, making me crave more. She’s my new drug of choice and her high is one I never want to come down from. Her hands move up my chest to my hair, tugging and pulling as we try to get as close to each other as possible. When she moans, I groan in response, the sound of us devouring each other filling the air around us, drowning out the music coming from inside the building.

A very small part of me is screaming to stop, reminding me that we’re at one of her events and anyone can find us out here behind my truck. I start to slow our kiss down, and eventually, I find the strength to break away. But I can’t resist trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, nipping and licking every inch until I reach that patch of deliciously exposed skin at her shoulder I’d been eyeing at dinner.

“I knew you were going to taste this amazing, baby. I can’t wait to explore and try the rest of you,” I whisper against her ear before nibbling on her lobe. I feel her shiver as she moves her head back, urging me to reclaim her mouth. As soon as my mouth touches hers, her lips part and our tongues dance together in what feels like pure ecstasy. Her little moans only stoke the fire still burning, and I’m once again lost in the abyss that is Alyson Dawson.

I force her to walk backward until her back hits a car that’s not mine. She opens her legs and wraps her arms around me, like she’s trying to mold her body to mine. My hands start roaming down those dangerous curves of hers, stopping over her delicious ass. Before I can stop myself, I hoist her up and she automatically wraps her legs around my waist. The heat of her rubs against my cock through our clothes, and the car I have her against begins to move.

Fuck, I can’t get enough of her.

I can’t stop kissing, tasting her, touching her.

Her moaning gets louder, her breath coming out in little pants. I know if we keep this up, she’s going to come from the friction against her clit. The selfish bastard in me wants to put my hand down the front of her pants and rub her until she screams out my name. I’m about to listen to my wicked inner voice when someone else makes the decision for me.

“What the hell? Get off of my car!” a man shouts, breaking our spell. I put her down and she immediately buries her face against my chest.

“Sorry about that, sir,” I say as I grab her hand and walk to the back entrance of the building.

“Crap, I gotta go. I think the show’s over.”

She’s probably right, since I can’t hear the band any longer and more people are now exiting the building. I pull her in for a hug and swiftly kiss her lips.

“Call me when you get home tonight,” I demand, and she nods slowly, still in a daze. I smile at her smugly, enjoying seeing those swollen lips and heated cheeks, knowing that came from me. “You better get going before I continue what we started in front of all these people.”

“You better continue what you started,” she says with a wicked smile that makes me laugh. “Text me when you get to the studio, so I know you got there okay.”

“Will do, baby,” I agree as she backs up a step.

“See you soon.”

“You bet you will,” I reply before she blows me a kiss and turns on her heel, disappearing into the crowd.

Once I can’t see her anymore, I take a shaky breath and go to my car. I sit in the parking lot of the Exit/In and reflect on what just happened between us and can only hope she’s not too good to be true.

Chapter Eight

ALY

I SPEED LIKE a maniac into the parking lot of my office, my tires squealing as I hastily pull into the first open spot I find. I put the car into park and pull down my visor to check my appearance in the mirror.

“Shit,” I groan out loud as I take in the disheveled hair, swollen lips, and dilated eyes. Not to mention the purple bags that no foundation can cover up. I look and feel like a hot mess, and it’s all because of a certain green-eyed devil I’ve become hypnotized by.