Martin stopped this flood of compliments with a kiss.
It was only now that Tiffani felt how urgent all their other kisses had been, how they had been full of tension, of Martin holding back so he wouldn’t overwhelm her. He had been desperate for her but he’d wanted to give her space. Now there was no space between them at all and certainly no lack of desperation. He kissed her like he had waited his whole life for this moment.
She would have to add a fourth “really” to that “good in bed” part. Maybe even a fifth.
Were they going to have sex in Martin’s car? While they were still parked in front of Florence’s house?
Yes, some part of her moaned. Yes, now, right now. Impulsiveness!
But there was giving herself permission to be impulsive and then there was getting arrested. It wasn’t even that late yet. Tiffani whimpered against Martin’s mouth.
“What?” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. “What is it?”
Okay. She didn’t care if she sounded overwrought.
“I need you.”
Desire darkened Martin’s eyes. “I need you too. Give me just a minute.”
He hit the gas. There was the slightest chance that they might be breaking land speed records, so Tiffani was just glad the streets were fairly quiet. The rumble of the car was driving her crazy, making the delicate skin inside her thighs twitch. Her body pulsed.
She’d known she didn’t live anywhere close to Florence’s neighborhood, but she had thought that maybe he did. But when Martin stopped the car, it was at a little off-road spot in a grassy clearing surrounded by trees. She thought she could see another car way up ahead of them, its lights off.
There was a blank stretch of moon-colored screen that loomed over the clearing. Tiffani had to look at it for a moment before memory clicked.
“Did this used to be a drive-in?”
“Once upon a time.” Martin unbuckled his seatbelt.
Tiffani couldn’t reconcile the desire to laugh with the desire to get on top of him as soon as possible, so she did both. It felt like the height of luxury.
“Martin Powell,” she whispered, “did you take me to a lover’s lane?”
“It was the closest place I could think of,” he protested.
Tiffani unbuttoned his trousers, straddling him. She didn’t even care about the steering wheel pressing into her back, but then Martin found the lever and ratcheted
the whole seat back and down, giving them more room.
She leaned down and kissed him again, savoring the heat of his mouth. He tasted sweet from the shortbread, and he nibbled at her lips as if he were thinking the same thing about her.
When he touched her breasts, she cried out, unprepared for how intense it felt. It shouldn’t have—through a blouse? Through a bra? But for some reason she felt like every nerve ending in her had come alive.
She thought the sex had been good before? Love—the knowledge of love—seemed to only make it better. Her whole body felt new, awakened centimeter by centimeter and touch by touch as he stroked her, held her.
She didn’t know that she had ever been so wet in her entire life. She wanted him so badly. It felt like she was nothing but a trigger waiting for the slightest pressure so she could go off in his hands.
Martin, thankfully, was in no mood to tease her. He brought her to her first orgasm quickly and generously, rubbing her through the sheer silk of panties. Only then, when she could finally relax a little, did he peel them off her and cast them aside. His own need was clear.
“Can I take off your skirt?” he said. “I know it’s risky, I just want—”
“Shh. It’s fine. Undo me, Martin.”
The windows were already fogged up. Besides, if someone was going to come along and see them, they were already in trouble, whether she was half-naked or not.
He found the clasp and her skirt fell away. Tiffani wriggled free of it, casting it down to the floor by the brakes.
She liked what that symbolized. All possibility of stopping was gone now.