Only for You (One Night of Passion 3)

The lock clicked. She barely backed up in time before the metallic door swung open. She jumped when it clattered loudly against the next stall. Her breath froze in her lungs. Seth stood there, arms at his side, his face the vivid picture of a dangerous storm about to break. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. His jeans were still unfastened and bunched around his hips. His cock was inside his briefs, but still flagrantly obvious. It tented the front of his white boxer briefs, huge and intimidating-looking. Her stare locked with his.

Oh my God. What should I say? What should I do?

It wasn’t as if a person was ever taught to deal with a situation like this.

Then he was stalking past her, jerking up his jeans and fastening them as he went. She heard the water start to run at the sink. When she mustered enough nerve to move, she peered around the bank of metal stalls and saw him standing at the sink. He washed his hands vigorously with soap and water, then leaned down and splashed his face repeatedly. She could tell by his stiff, forceful movements he was furious.

He shut off the tap and turned to retrieve several paper towels from the dispenser. After he’d thrown away the damp towels, she finally found her voice.

“I just thought you might want this,” she said lamely, holding up the toiletry bag. Her gaze kept bouncing off him, like he was a fire too hot and radiating for it to rest for long. “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she said in a choked voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Gia.”

She blinked and gaped up at his face when he cut her off harshly.

“Give me the bag, and go out to the car and wait for me.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. His eyes were molten. With that ominous pronouncement, did he mean what she thought he meant? One dark brow quirked as he stared at her stunned face. “Why are you surprised? You’re the one who won’t give me a second of rest. You should be the one to give me a moment of relief, don’t you think?”

His quiet, grim voice echoed in her head repeatedly. Her skin tingled beneath his scoring stare. She said nothing when he reached out and took the bag from her frozen, clawlike hand, setting it on the counter.

“Go on. I’ll be there in a moment.” She started to move toward the door, her heart beating uncomfortably hard in her chest. “Wait,” he barked.

She turned abruptly, surprised by his command. He tore off a paper towel and walked over to the sink. He wetted the towel. Without uttering a word, he stepped over to her. He cupped the back of her head with his palm and began to rub the towel over her lips, wiping off the paint there. Her lips parted when he moved the wet towel in the slit. His gaze narrowed on her mouth. He pushed with his hand at the back of her head gently and with the towel firmly, her soft flesh molding and succumbing to his touch.

“There’s a surveillance camera aimed at the cash register and the front door. Keep your head down when you pass. Go on,” he said gruffly as his hand lowered.

Eight

Gia swallowed thickly. Something ought to be said in these circumstances, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think what. She was feeling too much to talk. She took one last look into his gleaming, pantherlike eyes and stumbled out of the bathroom.

The trip back to the SUV was undertaken in a fog. She sat in the passenger seat, her gaze trained on the path to the store, breathing in ragged anticipation. He came within a minute of her, his stride long and rapid.

Hasty.

He clambered into the SUV. His scent followed him: soap, the lingering fragrance from his hair.

Male arousal.

He twisted the keys in the ignition. Her buzzing confusion mounted.

“What are we—?”

“Just a second,” he growled, swinging the vehicle around aggressively. He drove to a rear part of the parking lot that was deep in shadow. The car came to an abrupt halt. He threw it into Park. Then he was reaching for her.

She supposed some people might have called his kiss angry, but Gia understood it wasn’t. It was wild and furious, yes, but with need, not anger. She shared in his mood, so his mouth seizing hers single-mindedly only felt right. Delicious. He wasn’t going to hold back this time, she knew. His need had finally torn through his rigid defenses and irrational prejudice.

He tasted like peppermint and Seth. He’d held back in the bathroom to brush his teeth, she realized with amazed excitement. That knowledge struck her as poignantly sweet, especially in the fury of the raging storm of his lust. He ate her with focused fervor, biting at her lips, slicking the sting with the tip of his tongue, plunging into her mouth with unapologetic greed, and applying a slight suction that made her desperate. She sunk her fingers into his hair, straining to meet his powerful hunger.

He ripped at the button fly of her jeans and spoke next to her lips between small, lustful bites of her flesh.

“You’re killing me.” He shoved his hand into her underwear and her eyes sprang wide. His fingertip found her clit with unerring accuracy.

“No. You’re killing me,” she whimpered, kissing him back feverishly. “Oh God,” she moaned, because the ridge of his finger was rubbing her with a friction that made her eyes cross. Reality trickled into her rabid excitement. She reached across the console for that sexy belt buckle. “Let me first,” she hissed against his lips. “I’m the one who interrupted you.”

He growled in protest, pushing her back slightly with the mass of his solid body, continuing to agitate her clit in a bull’s-eye fashion. His hand opened at the small of her back, where he applied a slight pressure, pushing her against his agitating hand between her thighs. She writhed against him, struggling to reach him again. It was a wrestling match, but a hot, tense, sweaty one. She found the column of his thick, rigid cock pressing against his jeans and rubbed it with single-minded purpose through the fabric.

“Jesus,” he muttered. His head thudded against the back of the seat. She saw the pain on his face. She loved the evidence of his stark need and hated it, all at once. She released his belt, ripped at his button fly and tried to get the denim over his hips.