By the time I was feeding her lobster dunked in drawn butter and she was licking the butter off my fingers, we decided it was time to cut the evening short. No dessert for us, because it was getting too intense. The second she sucked the tip of my finger into her mouth, I went rock hard and pulled back only by sheer force of will.

“I think we should call it a night,” I said, my voice thick with reluctance and arousal.

She nodded like her head was on a spring, her eyes feverish, her hand reaching out toward me even as I stepped back, shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants that were now uncomfortably tight. I spoke to the manager, paid the bill, and she brought us a pair of desserts in to-go boxes. II wanted to do nothing more than throw down the boxes, back Maggie up against the pillar right there in the restaurant and jerk her panties down, bury my throbbing cock inside her and let her ride me until we both collapsed from exhaustion and the kind of orgasm that could kill a man. I took out a handkerchief and blotted sweat off my forehead. I was well and truly overheated.

I drove her back to her house, the silence thick with frustrated desire and nothing to say to relieve it. We were still enemies. She wasn’t the sort of woman willing to have a week or two of steamy hate-sex, and I liked her too well for my own good already. When I pulled up in front of her adorable house, she turned to me.

“I had a really nice time this evening. I mean, it was wild and miserable, but nice,” she said.

I reached for her without a word. The sharp ache of desire made me ruthless, unable to speak. I took her face in my hands and feasted on her moth, devouring her lips, her tongue, making her pant and cling to me and do everything just the way I wanted it. She had a natural talent for driving me wild, it seemed.

Trailing fingertips down her neck, I ran my hand down her chest, making her tremble again and arch into my palm as my hand found her aching, eager breast, so full and heavy in my hand. I groaned into her mouth as I felt it, the weight and longing, the needy ache of it, and the way the tip responded to the slightest brush of my thumb. I felt her tighten, going hard and tight under my touch. She needed it just like I did, I thought.

I worked her nipple a little harder as I kissed her, my thumb keeping pace with the onslaught of my relentless tongue, my determination to taste her as much as possible. She seemed willing to let me, seemed like she was so turned on that she’d probably let me do practically anything at that point. I wanted to pull her under me, to come down over her in the car, shove my knee between her thighs and work her hard until she gave me everything I needed, hot, tight, and deep.

We kissed for so long I wasn’t sure I knew how to do anything else. This was my job and my life now, sitting in a rental car making out with Maggie. I was okay with that.

With a ragged breath that was almost a sob, she pulled back from me and took my hands in hers, squeezing my fingers tightly. Her breathing was fast and heavy, and so was mine.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“You’re welcome. That kiss was—”

“I know what it was. It was a sign that I should say good night, go in the house alone and lock the door.”

“I’m not going to break down your door,” I said, as if I hadn’t thought of doing just that.

“I know. It’s to remind me that I shouldn’t run back out and chase your car,” she laughed. It was a big, hearty, self-deprecating laugh that made me feel warm and good all the way through.

“Damn it all, Maggie,” I burst out, “this is impossible. There’s no reason in the world we should even be on speaking terms, much less kissing each other’s clothes off in a parked car. It’s ridiculous. I’m not sure we’ll survive it.”

“There’s no way it would work. Not even in the short term. So let’s agree that the entire attraction is a stupid freak of nature, something to do with hormones or barometric pressure, I don’t know,” she said, “and be nodding acquaintances from here on out. I’ll say good morning if I see you. But I won’t kiss you again.”

“That’s a solid plan. Except, I wish you’d told me that before our last kiss.”

“You couldn’t have made it any better, trust me,” she said with that shaky edge back in her voice that made my heart rate spike in response.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance