"I'll call the driver," he said, his voice tight.
She nodded. "That's a good idea."
At least, she thought it was a good idea until they climbed into the car. The sun was still up, but it was setting fast, and with the darkened windows, the car's interior had a sultry, sensual feel. Or maybe that was just Eva.
Either way, she sat on the back seat feeling hyperaware of everything--especially the man sitting beside her.
"You don't mind, do you? I rode sideways going in, but I think I've had enough to drink to make that unpleasant going back."
"Of course I don't mind," she said. Then said nothing else for at least fifteen miles because she didn't know what to say. So she just listened as he talked about the food and the leather goods store where he'd bought a wallet and the cute shirt they'd picked up for Elena.
"I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"What?" she said. "Oh, no."
"Then why aren't you saying anything?"
"Oh. I. Well. This is going to sound odd, but I think I'm a little nervous." She turned sideways enough to see his face, relieved to have confessed that much of it.
"Really? That's funny."
"Excuse me?"
"I just mean that's why I'm babbling."
"Oh." She frowned. "You mean you're nervous, too."
"Pretty much."
"What have you got to be nervous about?" She heard the breathiness in her voice and wondered if he did, too.
"Probably the same thing you do." That time, it was a tease she heard.
"Oh. Right." She nodded, her head bobbing foolishly as she tried to drum up som
e courage. Finally, she turned to him and blurted, "There's something I've been wanting to do."
"Yeah? What--"
But she didn't let him finish the question. Instead, she leaned into him, which was more awkward than she expected since they were sitting side by side, and she was still tipsy. She bumped his nose, gasped, then found her mouth pressed hard against his, exactly where she'd been aiming in the first place.
He opened to her, his mouth firm and demanding with just a hint of chocolate. And when his hand cupped her head and pulled her closer, she moaned and melted into the kiss. Their mouths locked into a battle, a war, a wild match that she was determined to win, knowing that no matter what, she'd come away satisfied.
Memory flooded over her. The taste of him. The scent. The feel of his fingers on her body, of his tongue teasing her breasts. Beneath her bra, her nipples peaked, and some small part of her brain shouted that this was too much, that she'd regret it in the morning, that she really needed to never drink again.
She told the voice to go to hell and shifted on the seat. And then, because she was feeling far too bold and way too foolish, she moved onto his lap and straddled him.
"Eva." His voice was a low groan, swallowed by an even deeper kiss. She shifted her weight, then gasped as she realized how close they were and how hard he was. She could feel his erection through his jeans, and though she knew she was being completely wanton, she didn't care. She ground against him, wanting even more, but knowing that she would have to stop. That they couldn't take this much further.
But oh, it felt good to just go this far.
His hands stroked her body, the one at her neck sliding down as another crept under her shirt, teasing it up until, finally, his palm closed over her breast and she moaned against his mouth.
He tasted so good. Felt so good. Like the past and the future all rolled into one.
Except he couldn't be...
Her future wasn't here, it was at home, in California. She had a life, and he had a life, and if they kept this up--if she let this lead all the way to sex in a limousine--they'd both regret it in the morning.