Much to his amusement, I glance over my shoulder. The seat is small. Annoyed at myself and at Drew’s smug chuckle, I pull out my phone. We’re heading for a large stretch of empty road now, and I know he’ll let the car go then. “This radio work with my phone?” I ask.
Drew nods. “I like old cars, but I have my standards.” He reaches down and hands me an input wire as I download a song.
It’s my turn to smile. “I think you’ll like this one.” I hit play.
His expression is priceless, his nose wrinkled in confusion at the twangy plucking of a guitar and two guys conversing in a beatnik style. “What the hell?”
“Just listen.”
He does and his mouth twitches. The guys are making fun of The Doors now, and Drew snorts.
“It’s the Dead Milkmen,” I say.
One guy asks the other what car dude’s dad got him. My gaze catches Drew’s and we’re both grinning.
“Don’t tell me,” Drew says, just as the band launches into a hard and fast punk rock riff about a Camaro. It’s manic, all drums and guitars and screaming singers.
“Bitchin’ Camaro, man,” I say with a laugh.
And Drew takes off. We’re flying, my back presses against the seat, and I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt. Drew’s laughing with me. We’re mad on speed and ridiculous lyrics. And I don’t want it to end. Little Red eats up the road, gray asphalt is a blur. I ought to be afraid, but I feel alive.
We race along until the song ends and then Drew slows. “That was excellent,” he says.
“So’s the car.” I rest my head on the seat and smile at him. I’m sore from laughter, little aftershocks of giddiness quake though my belly.
Everything is quiet except the steady hum of the engine, and that’s okay. The realization steals over me. We can sit together in silence and feel comfortable. When had it happened? Before I can brood on it any longer, Drew’s stomach growls. With insistence.
“Why do I get the feeling that your stomach likes talking to me?” I ask him.
The corner of his mouth quirks. “Kind of your fault.”
“Oh, really?”
“You fed it once. Naturally it’s going to come asking for more.”
“Naturally.” I snort and then grab my bag. “I don’t know if I should be enabling this development, but I happen to have a sub—”
“Hand it over, Jones.”
“You sure? You’d let us eat in Little Red? I mean this interior is pretty pristine.”
Drew looks at me sidelong. He’s fighting a grin, but he manages to look pseudo threatening. “Hand over the food and no one gets hurt.”
I pull out an eight-inch long section of the party sub I’d taken from the catering kitchen, and he makes an exaggerated groan. “Oh, baby, it’s so big.”
“That’s my line.”
“Yes, it is.”
Snorting, I help myself to a small section of sandwich then hand him the rest.
His groan is real and appreciative as he starts to devour the sub, one hand on the wheel the other lovingly holding his food. “Italian,” he says between bites. “Bless you.”
“You must be really hungry because this sub is mediocre at best.” The sandwich is soggy on the bottom and overly salty.
“I’m starved. I haven’t eaten since before the game.” Drew gives me a quick, guilty look.
It’s harder to swallow my bite. “Thanks for taking me for a ride.” My words are soft in the dark car, and when silence falls, it’s less easy now.
But Drew just shrugs and finishes off his last bite. “Wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.”
Which makes the ache inside of me stronger.
He peers down at my bag. “I don’t suppose you have any—”
I have my water bottle out and to him before he can finish, and I am rewarded with another one of his grins.
“You’re a goddess, Anna Jones.”
I affect a casual tone, as if my heart isn’t bruised and bewildered. “Well, since you’re feeling nice and indebted. Can I drive Little Red?” I need something to do, something to calm me before I fling myself at him and offer my undying adoration.
And I have to admire the way he struggles not to react with the horror that’s so clearly stealing over him. I figure no one but Drew drives this car. It has to be the case, because he’s almost squirming in his seat. I’m about to let him off the hook, tell him it’s okay, I get it, I understand it’s a guy thing, when he suddenly pulls over to the side of the road.
“Okay, but—”
“If you make some lame crack about my ability to handle a stick, I will end you,” I quip, just to break his tension.
“I want to live,” he teases. Then looks at me hard, but there’s a gleam in his eyes beneath the scowl. “Seriously, I want to live so…”
“Ass.” I give his peck a light punch before I wrench open the heavy car door and get out. We meet in the middle, the car’s headlights illuminating us. Or rather, I run by him and jump into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me. “It’s freaking freezing out there now,” I tell him as he gets into the passenger seat.
My legs hover somewhere in no-man’s land. He’s so tall; the pedals are at least a foot away from me. Muttering about giants, I roll the seat forward, and he snorts. “More like redheaded pixies who need to pull the seat up to the steering wheel.”
“I do not, in any way, resemble a pixie.” The very idea is laughable.
His fleeting gaze travels over my breasts and hips, and it’s hot. “You might be right.”
I’m only a little flustered when I start the car.
I don’t punch it. I drive fast and smooth, learning the feel of the car and its ticks.
Drew studies me, his body angled in the seat a little. “I thought you’d floor it.”
I shrug as we glide around a soft curve. “I’m getting to know her first.”
The way he looks at me, as if I’ve said something special. I don’t understand that look, it makes me twitchy deep in my belly, so I ignore it and drive. We’re quiet, lulled by the gentle purr of the motor. And it’s nice. The old car, with its soft leather and warm heat, is cozy.
The road is really a big loop, bringing us back into town. I can see the lights of the campus coming up upon us in the distance.
A mile later, I spot an abandoned lot, and put on my blinker. Which is ridiculous considering we’re the only ones out here, but habit is habit.
When Drew speaks, his steady voice is so deep it’s soothing. “You can drive us back,” he says. “It’s up to you.”
I don’t think I can take the feel of his gaze on me any longer. It’s doing strange things to my heart, speeding it up, slowing it down. He drives me crazy, and I’m beginning to think he knows exactly how much.
“It’s okay,” I say as I pull in. The tires crunch over gravel and the car rocks over a small bump. I ease it to a stop, turn the engine off, and promptly realize the error of my plan. We’re alone in the dark, warm cocoon of the car. And while I’ve never shirked from the chance to jump on Drew, everything feels different now. Somehow, without my permission, we’ve grown closer, and I know a decision must be made.
Drew seems twitchy as well, his biceps bunching beneath his shirt as he taps on his knee.
“Let’s change seats then,” I say, not quite looking him in the eye.
It’s clear that neither of us want to go outside, which means only one option. We’ve got to climb over each other. Or maybe it’s the excuse we both need to touch. That we even need one makes my stomach clench.
As soon as we spring into action, the reality of it isn’t the sexy situation I’d envisioned. Not when our knees bash into each other at the same time as my chin collides with Drew’s massive shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Oof!”
I rear back, hitting my heat on the roof as Drew awkwardly falls to the side, his ass connecting with the steering wheel. The Camaro’s horn is a bellow in the dark night. Mutter
ing a curse, Drew tries to get his leg over the console the same time as I do, and we tangle again.
“Move your butt, you big mountain,” I grumble.
He starts to snicker, which sets me off. We both laugh and curse as Drew slides by me and I half crawl to the passenger seat, only to feel a tug on my skirt.
“Shit! I’m stuck on the stick.”
Drew laughs harder.
“Don’t you dare make stick jokes,” I warn through a laugh.
“I’m too busy trying to get my ass out of the steering wheel.” His shoulder crushes my chest as he wiggles, laughing so hard—he’s as clumsy as I am. “Fuck, why did you not put the seat back?”
“No. Ow. Would you move?” I yank at my skirt but his thigh is pinning my calf to the driver’s seat. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
“Obviously. Hold up.” His ribs shove in my face as he bends over the driver’s seat. There’s a loud click and then we’re falling as the seat zips back. Drew twists, landing on the seat, his arm wrapping about my waist and pulling me with him. I end up on his lap with a thud, and Drew’s pained grunt. My bent leg is awkwardly braced on his chest and putting me off balance.
“Seriously, Jones,” he says, still a bit breathless from our laughing fit, “if you wanted to get in my lap, you only had to ask.” He puts a hand to my back, keeping the steering wheel from digging into my spine.
My cheeks hurt from grinning. “You caught me. It was all part of an evil plan to turn us into a human pretzel. Watch your head. Leg incoming.”
He ducks his chin as I lift my leg up and over his head, effectively straddling his lap with my knees tucked under his arms in the tight space. Not very comfortable, but who am I kidding? I like where I am.
The position, however, bunches my skirt around my hips. Instantly, his free hand lands on my exposed thigh. “You cold?” he asks quietly, as he begins to rub it to keep me warm.
I shake my head, my voice having fled. How can I be cold with his firm, heated torso this close to mine? His heartbeat is steady and hard beneath my palm.
“Did I hurt you anywhere?” He eases me closer still, until my breasts pillow his chest.
“No.” Face to face, all I can see is Drew colored pale blue by moonlight, his eyes gleaming and dark as they study me. His gaze lowers to my lips and stays there, as his grip becomes firmer, laden with intent. Heat invades me swift and strong.
His mouth. So close. Close enough that our breath mingles. I love his mouth, the lush shape of it, and I don’t even know what it tastes like, how it feels. His fingers press into the flesh of my thigh, as though he needs to hold onto something, and my gaze flicks up to meet his.
A pained expression there, and a plea.
Drew will never take from me. Not unless he knows I want it too. Tenderness mixes with the pervasive heat inside of me, a heady stew that has me sinking further into his embrace. Carefully, I trace his jaw, the texture like fine sandpaper against my fingertips.
“Anna.” It’s whisper of sound.
Holding his gaze, I lean in. My lips brush his. So gently it’s barely a touch. But it’s everything. I feel it down to my toes. Drew sucks in a sharp breath, his body going tight. So I do it again. Stronger. More sure. Clinging just a bit to his lower lip.
And then he groans. His fingers thread into my hair, clutching tight as he tilts his head and kisses me back. It isn’t hard or frantic. It’s a warm, melting exploration, as if we’ve fallen into the middle of a kiss, tongues sliding, lips melding and parting in a slow rhythm. And I ignite, burning brighter than the sun. Sensation, want, need, surge through me on a moan that’s lost in his mouth.
Drew shivers. His fingertips run along my neck, my cheek, and back down again, as his lips nuzzle and suck on mine. Going deeper, having more of me every time. And every time my heart clenches just a bit harder within my chest.
Dizziness swamps me. There is no up or down, just Drew. Drew’s mouth. His taste and his heat. I want to sink into him, drown in his touch. I tremble, whimpering in frustration as I rock against his erection and open my mouth wider for his kiss. He holds me tighter. Grounding me.
“It’s better,” he says inside a kiss.
“Better?” My hands roam the plains of his chest, the rounded swells of his shoulders. I’ve missed the feel of him against me.
“Kissing you. It’s better than I imagined.”
I hadn’t let myself imagine. I touch his cheek, and our gazes collide. My breath grows short. My heart actually hurts. “Drew.” I don’t know what else to say. But it seems enough for him right now. He holds me like I’m precious to him, like he wants to fuse us together.
“Come home with me,” he whispers between kisses that are growing more urgent, fierce. His skin is damp, his body shaking as hard as mine. “I need you, Anna. I need you in my bed.”
I can barely keep my eyes open. My clothes smother me. Sweat tickles down my back, and my thighs tremble with need. And I can’t stop kissing him. Deep, light, hard, soft. It’s too much. I knew it would be. I am lost in him.
“Anna…” His voice is weak now. Rough as his breathing.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, he nods once, his fingertips still roaming over my face as if he needs to memorize it by touch. “Okay.” Another seeking kiss. “Okay.”
I STAY IN his lap as he drives us home. It’s stupid and dangerous but neither of us are thinking very clearly now. It’s not an option to move off of him, to let him go. Drew’s arm remains wrapped around my waist, his big hand clamped on my hip as if he’s afraid I might change my mind, try to escape.
I don’t. I won’t. I’m too far gone now. I’m weak and needy for him. So he drives, and my head rests on his shoulder as my fingers trace his neck, touch the spot where his pulse is a rapid tattoo. He holds me tighter, presses his cheek against the top of my head, as he maneuvers the car down darkened neighborhood streets.
His heart beats as fast as my own. We’re almost humming with anxious anticipation. If we don’t get there soon, I know he’ll pull over and take me in the back seat, cramped or not. I almost make the suggestion, I’m so achy for him, but the car swerves into a driveway and then lurches to a halt.
He’s got the car turned off and the parking brake on in seconds. The door wrenches open, and somehow we’re out. I’m in his arms. I don’t even know how he’s accomplished swinging both himself and my body weight out of the car with such ease, nor do I protest that he’s carrying me. I’m pretty sure if he puts me down right now, we’d both fall.
His house is a small craftsman style bungalow with a peaked roof that creates a wide front porch. Drew makes short work of the front steps. I burrow my nose into his neck and cling with my legs around his waist as he fumbles with his keys before the glass-pained door. Then we’re stumbling inside.
I get a glimpse of white walls, high ceilings, and dark floors. A retro 30s metal dome table lamp casts a warm haze over a leather couch and chair and teak credenza. This isn’t a college guy’s hangout. It’s a home. Framed and matted photos hang from the walls. That’s all I see of it. Drew captures my mouth with his once more, his grip on my ass tight and sure as he strides across the room.
His room is cool, quiet, the mellow glow of another table lamp limning everything in golden light. Drew sets me down at the foot of his bed before attacking my buttons, his fingers fumbling and desperate, his mouth never leaving mine.
My knuckles press into his abdomen as I rip open his jeans, shoving them down in my haste. The waistband of his boxer briefs snag over his hard cock, and he curses. He frees himself then reaches for me. Everything becomes a blur of flying, discarded clothes and messy kisses. And then the world lifts away. In his arms one second, and sinking into a cool, thick down comforter the next.
Drew climbs over me. Hot, smooth skin slides over mine. Hard muscles. Heavy, dense flesh. And everywhere he touches, I ignite.
We don’t stop kissing. I don’t think I’m
capable of stopping. I’m starved for his mouth.
He moves between my legs, and I tilt my hips to give him better access. Now. I want him now. Hard. Fast. But suddenly he slows us down, suckling my lower lip before he raises his head. Arms bracketing me, he looks into my eyes, his fingers playing with my hair.
His lids lower a fraction, but he doesn’t close his eyes. “Every night,” he says. “Every single night I’ve thought about you being here. Just like this.”
I shiver. Every single night I’ve feared being here. Like this. Because I wanted it so very much.
Skin to skin, we lie, trembling and sweating. Between our pressed bellies, his cock throbs hot and firm. I struggle to breathe. My palms skim over his narrow, tight waist, as I try for a light tone. “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do to me?”
Drew’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile. “Keep you here.”
Hell.
Just when I fear emotion might cripple me, he moves, canting his hips until the rounded tip of his cock nudges against my opening. My attention zeroes in on it, that spot where everything has gone so hot and needy that my sex clenches. Holding my gaze, he slides the tip in. Then the bastard stills.
“Drew.” Squirming, I try to take more.
He only smiles and holds steady, a solid plank of unyielding muscle. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.” Every substantial inch. But that’s not what he’s asking, and we both know it.
“All of me?” His expression turns serious, his voice a ghost in the silence. Oh, but he rocks his hips, pushing in just a bit more, an inducement designed to make me insane. “Do you want all of me, Anna?”
I can feel my heart beating against his. Twin steady, quick thrums that match pace. I could say no. Retreat to safety. And it would end the best thing that has ever happened to me. With a shaking hand, I reach out and skim my fingers along the damp hair at his temple. “Yes.”
He swallows audibly, his body trembling with something that feels like relief against my skin. “Glad we’ve got that settled.” He moves to thrust but halts again. This time with a curse that mingles with mine.
The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) Page 20
