The Affair: Week 2 - Soon

She put her hand at the back of his head, her fingers delving into his hair. It felt even more arousing than she’d imagined, to touch the thick waves. She pulled him to her. He came reluctantly.

But he came.

She kissed his slight frown, coaxing him. Softening him. She glanced into his eyes cautiously as she nibbled at his firm mouth. His gaze blazed down at her. His utter stillness made her wary, but excited her as well. She ran her tongue delicately along the inner lining of his lower lip, and felt the shudder in his body.

“Fuck it,” he said, before he seized her mouth and sealed it to his.

His tongue plunged between her lips at the same moment that he turned her, urged her . . . taking control. Her ass and back thumped against the hard surface of a car. He pressed her to it tighter with his body. She burned for a moment between the two hard surfaces and beneath his voracious kiss. Distantly, she heard a metallic click. He lifted his head and stared down at her.

“Get in,” he said. She looked around dazedly and saw that he held open the door to the backseat of the beautiful luxury sedan. It was a challenge he’d growled so softly.

It was a challenge she was more than willing to meet.

Her heart slamming against her breastbone, she pried herself away from his pinning body and walked around him. The only movement he made was the slight give in his body as he released her. She looked at him before she sat in the car. He watched her by moving only his eyes, holding his head immobile, his facial features pulled tight. Once she was inside the car, she scooted over on the seat, glancing around anxiously.

It was some kind of vintage luxury vehicle, the likes of which she’d never before seen. The name Bentley had come to mind earlier, but she didn’t know if that was the correct name of the car or not. Her imagination supplied a vision of some 1950s, fur-draped movie star being driven by a chauffeur to a glamorous red-carpet event in a similar car. The seat was very long by today’s car standards, and was made of decadently soft, ivory-colored leather. The dashboard looked like it was made of tortoiseshell.

She fleetingly noticed these details before his body blocked the light from the garage in the open door, and he was sliding onto the seat next to her. The door shut. She’d thought the interior of the car unusually large until he was in it with her. His presence made her feel as if she was secreted in a small, dim place with him . . . trapped, but excitingly so.

“Come here,” he said grimly, reaching for her. She went into his arms, eager to be submerged in his heat again. He leaned down and met her kiss, immediately taking control of it. She whimpered softly into his mouth, melting. This is what he did, some befuddled part of her brain acknowledged. He turned women to goo. His seductions were as easy and practiced as his mechanical ability around cars. The realization didn’t bother her at that moment. His expertise was what she required. What she needed.

Even though his kiss was a firm, hot delight, he’d reined himself in during the interim when she’d gotten into the car. She loved his mouth’s making love to her with such consummate, toe-curling heat and skill, but she longed to feel the sharp edge of his desire again. She sealed their kiss and turned her head, brushing their mouths together experimentally, nibbling, learning his shape and texture. His scent penetrated her awareness—clean skin, a remnant of his spicy cologne, a hint of motor oil. Familiar. Thrilling. Wonderful.

She plucked at his lips with curious ardor, but he remained utterly still. Chained. Her fingers sunk into his hair—thick, gorgeous man-hair. Need clawed at her insides, lust like she’d never experienced it. Her fingernails scraped his scalp forcefully.

His low, guttural groan sent another sharp thrill through her. His hands bracketing her waist, he leaned down over her, his tongue piercing her mouth. He pulled her against him roughly. Her back arched, her breasts crushing against him, yet he wasn’t close enough. His tongue swept the depths of her mouth, as if claiming it as his territory. He applied a suction that she felt in the far reaches of her body—her nipples, her belly, the very core of her.

Fisting his thick hair, she pulled him closer with knuckles on his skull. He groaned in rough dissatisfaction, and she thought she knew why. They couldn’t get any closer in their sitting position.

He pushed and she yielded, lying back on the supple leather seat. She made a muffled sound of protest when he sealed their torrid kiss momentarily. Hands on her waist, he slid her further along the seat so that her head rested near the far door. She saw the glint of his eyes in the shadowed interior. She gave a little squeak of surprise when he scooped up her legs behind the knees and threaded them around his still-partially-upright body, his actions quick and precise. He let go and her legs fell between his back and the back cushion. Then he was coming down over her reclining body, his weight on top of her feeling heaven-sent. He grasped the side of her head, his fingers threading into her hair, her skull fitting into his palm. A wild quiver of anticipation went through her when she saw his lust-tight features.

He captured her mouth with his own, and the kiss resumed, hot and wet and deep. Her hands moved over his back, desperate to outline his shape and texture. She wanted—no, she needed—to feel his arousal pressed against her flesh, craved the evidence of his reciprocal desire. But he was still in a partial sitting position, his hip on the seat, his booted feet on the floor. She could lie out flat on the long seat of the luxurious car, but he was much too tall. She transferred one hand to his belly, wild to absorb him one way or another, pressing against fabric to feel the taut wall of muscle beneath it. Her hand lowered below his waist, reaching. He lifted his head. Gritting his teeth, he slid his hand down her arm, grasping her wrist. He did the same to the other, and before Emma knew what was happening, he’d pressed both her hands above her head.

He stared down at her, nostrils flared slightly, his breath coming as choppily as hers.

“Don’t you dare tease me, Emma.”

She blinked at his harshness. He was holding her tight. She couldn’t move. Despite his biting words and the restraint that she sensed she couldn’t break if she tried, she wasn’t afraid of him. Her excitement only mounted. He closed his eyes briefly, and she sensed his regret.

“I’m not going to do this in the back of the car in a garage,” he said more evenly after a pause. “I’m not a tee

nager anymore.” His gaze lowered to her heaving chest. “Or an animal,” he added, this time less certainly.

Emma swallowed back a protest. For a few seconds, she just lay there, trying to gather herself. It was hard, with his upper body pressed against her and his head hovering so close, inhaling the scent that did something unprecedented to her brain. She’d never wanted a man more. She’d never wanted anything so sharply that it cut her to the quick. Still, she heard what he was saying.

“I understand.” She twisted slightly beneath him and pulled at her hands in his grip.

“No you don’t,” he said with a flash of irritation, refusing to release her hands.

“What’s not to understand?” she asked, exasperation tingeing her tone. “I’m not going to beg you. If you don’t want to, fine.”

He abruptly caught her right wrist and drew it downward, taking her by surprise. He pressed her hand between his thighs. She gaped up at him. He felt huge throbbing next to her palm, furiously erect. It’d been the evidence she craved, but now it left her speechless.

“That’s how much I want to,” he grated out between a rigid jaw, pressing her hand tighter to his swollen cock for an electrical second. He seemed to notice her stunned expression. He jerked her hand away, grimacing. He lowered his head, obscuring his face. For a few seconds, he remained like that, his chest moving in and out in silent pants.

He glanced up after a moment, that marblelike surface she often saw on his features back in place. His hand skimmed down over her belly. Her stomach muscles jumped at the caress. His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her jeans. Her eyes widened.

He flipped his wrist in a precise, expert motion, and the top button of her jeans came unfastened.