Driver.

That word clanged loudly in his brain. His dad had been a limo driver and would have been proud of him-not for driving per se, but for helping the kids who needed it, especially when it came to math. His father had never gone to college, but he'd tried to work on his own number skills during the last year of his life, taking accounting cla.s.ses at night school. Maybe Colin had picked up where his father had left off, carrying on his memory as the numbers guy of the crew.

Rex gave him the address, and Colin wrote it down. "Got it."

His bell rang, sending Johnny Cash straight out of an evening snooze and into a brief bark-fest at the door. He headed to the entryway and peered in the peephole.

Even through the tiny window, Elle looked edible.

He glanced down, realizing he'd only managed to put on boxers.

So be it.

He opened the door as he finished his call with Rex. "I'll be there at eight a.m. That work for you?"

"Absolutely. You're the best," Rex was saying as Elle stepped inside Colin's home and mouthed "wow" as she raked her eyes over his hardly-dressed body.

"See you then." He hung up, tossed his phone on the entryway table, and kissed her.

A soft kiss for a mere few seconds.

Then a hard and furious one that had hands wrapped around bodies and fingers diving into hair and breath coming fast from both of them. They were a collision of l.u.s.t and heat. They clawed at each other, grasping, grabbing, needing contact. Fierce and fevered contact.

She giggled, breaking the kiss.

He shot her a curious look, and she pointed downward. Johnny Cash was licking her calf.

"I think he likes my lotion."

"Is it eau de filet mignon?"

"No. It's Body Shop. Satsuma oranges. All their stuff is made with no animal testing, so maybe that's why he likes it."

"Either that or he has scurvy." He pointed to the living room. "Go lie down, Johnny Cash."

The dog obeyed, trotting to the rug in front of the gray couch.

She gestured to his briefs. "Nice boxers," she said, and he followed her gaze. She was staring at his erection, a full tent against the cotton fabric.

He gestured to her. All of her. "Nice everything."

"Who are you meeting at eight a.m.?" she asked, as he reached for her hand and led her into his home.

"Rex. He needs a ride to take his math placement test tomorrow."

She beamed. Absolutely f.u.c.king beamed. Her whole expression lit up with the biggest smile he'd seen in ages. "That is so cool of you to do that. I'm so thrilled," she said as she reached for his arm, running her fingers along his skin. "I love it when you help them. It kind of turns me on."

"I'm taking Marcus, too. Does it turn you on twice as much that I'm driving two of them?"

She blinked. Once, twice, three times. Her face seemed to freeze, and her smile turned into a deletion.

He frowned, confused at the shift. "Are you okay?" She closed her eyes for a second, squeezed them hard, then pressed her fingers to her temple. "Elle. What's going on?" he asked nervously.

She opened her eyes. "Sorry. Sometimes I get these headaches. It's nothing." She waved her hand as if to dismiss it. She reached for his shoulders, grasped them, and walked backward to his couch. "You know what really turns me on?"

"Tell me."

"Thinking about you all day. Like you wanted me to," she said as she reached the couch. "I've been hot and bothered since I left you."

She sank down on the couch and he followed her there, kneeling over her as she lay down.

"Did you count down the hours?" he asked as he ran a hand up her bare leg.

She nodded as she settled into a pillow at the end of the couch, her chestnut hair spilling across it. "It was pure torture."

"Were you wet just thinking of me?"

"Yes. Just like now. I was turned on constantly. I ached for you," she said, as he glided his finger across the damp panel of her panties. His c.o.c.k twitched against his boxers as he touched her. His delicious, wet, h.o.r.n.y Elle. G.o.d, he loved how much she wanted it. He loved turning her on. He loved touching her. Pushing her tight little skirt up to her waist, he groaned as he saw her panties-black lace with a tiny bow at the center.

"You need to be naked, right now. Completely naked," he said, tugging off the panties and removing her heels, too. The shoes were s.e.xy as f.u.c.k, but a plan was a plan was a plan. He needed her in her birthday suit for the first time. "Nothing on. Nothing but you, naked from head to toe, as I bury my face in this sweetness." He slid a finger through her slick heat as she arched into him, wriggling out of her top at the same time.

She moved to her bra next, freeing her t.i.ts. His breath hitched. There she was, down to nothing but her beautiful bare self and the shimmer of desire evident in the flush on her skin. Her eyes, so dark and hungry, told him that she had indeed been one tortured woman all day long.

"I almost feel bad for making you think about me for nine hours straight," he growled, as he pressed his hands on the insides of her thighs.

Her legs parted, and he groaned as he drank in the sight of her wet p.u.s.s.y. She was so f.u.c.king s.e.xy, and so d.a.m.n turned on, and he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman in his life. "But I can't find it in me to feel bad when you're this worked up already."

She ran a hand through her hair and panted. "I am. Oh G.o.d, I am. You're the only thing I could think about. I've been so turned on since I saw you this morning, and I'm dying for you."

Her words stoked the raging fire in him. It crackled and burned with rampant desire as he opened her legs further, savoring the utterly intoxicating view of this beautiful woman arching her hips toward his mouth.

His d.i.c.k ached. His erection throbbed against his boxer shorts. His mouth watered as he settled between her legs, hooked them on his shoulders, and at last, at long f.u.c.king last, he kissed her sweet honey center.

Oh G.o.d.

Oh dear f.u.c.king G.o.d in heaven.

She rocked into him the very second he touched her s.e.x. It was like a match on tinder, igniting her instantly. She groaned, she moaned, and she cried out his name. She was a live wire, exposed, ready, and waiting. She'd wanted this for so long, had pictured it often, and had fantasized about it so many times.

Sure, they'd had s.e.x on a handful of occasions, and she'd taken him deep in her mouth twice, but this was virgin territory.

It was a first for them, and if it happened right, it would be a first for her.

She'd never come like this. Sam hadn't been into it, and she hadn't been with many others. This was her ultimate fantasy. The one she devoured in her erotica. The one she dreamed of, rode her fingers to, and f.u.c.ked herself with toys to images of.

As he swept his tongue across her p.u.s.s.y, she bowed her back, so ready to sing, to shout, and to scream. He was a f.u.c.king dream. His lips were soft, and his stubble was rough, and his tongue was insistent as he flicked it up and down along her swollen, aching c.l.i.t. She grabbed his hair as if her hands were a steel grip and she couldn't let go. She wouldn't let go. She rocked into his face. Electricity crackled through her, lighting up all her nerves, sizzling her skin.

She cried out his name, and for a second he broke contact to look at her-his eyes were heated, full of the same wild longing. That moment was like a thread between them, a tight, neat line that tethered her to him. To share in this l.u.s.t for another person was the greatest high, the sweetest intoxication, and, h.e.l.l, did they have it. She wanted his mouth as much as he wanted to consume her.

"Tell me what you say when you f.u.c.k yourself," he said in a dirty growl. "Talk to me like you did all the times I devoured you in your fantasies."

Another wave of desire crashed through her, and she dug her nails into his scalp. Gladly. She'd gladly tell him. She'd used him so many times; she'd gotten off to him countless nights; she'd come to his image over and over.

"f.u.c.k me with your tongue," she said, panting as she thrust into him.

He moaned as he licked her, cupping her a.s.s and pulling her closer. His tongue explored her. His sinfully delicious lips devoured her, and she'd never felt so lavished, so cherished, or so utterly craved. His hot kisses turned her into a wet, writhing collection of sparking nerve endings and rushing blood cells.

She closed her eyes, sharing with him all the dirty things she'd said in her head as she'd m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed to him. All the filthy words she imagined she'd say when she finally felt him do this. "I want to ride your face. I want to f.u.c.k your face so hard," she said, in broken gasps. His tongue kicked into some kind of overdrive, flicking her wildly. He let go of his grip on her a.s.s and grabbed her hands, clasping them tight, clutching them as he feasted on her. Hands in hands, this act became all the more intense.

Closer. She felt closer to him than she ever had before as he held her tight, their fingers laced together, while he drank her in. Her muscles tightened. The first wave of pleasure crashed over her, and it was happening.

"I want to come all over you, Colin," she said, as the sensations rolled through her, overwhelming her, flooding her brain with nothing but beautiful bliss.

"Oh G.o.d," she cried out, losing control, letting go, and giving in to everything she felt with him. "I'm going to come on your face. Just like you want." He gripped her hands so d.a.m.n tight as he ravaged her. "Just like I've pictured. Oh f.u.c.k. Oh G.o.d. It's so f.u.c.king good."

Then she screamed, and nothing else existed in the whole d.a.m.n world but this perfect moment of pleasure, this unparalleled ecstasy with this man who was so unbelievably good to her in every way.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Rock. Hard.

His d.i.c.k was steel. His stubble was coated in her gorgeous, glorious, delicious wetness. He could still taste her on his tongue. Like sin and honey. Like longing and l.u.s.t. Like the woman he had to have completely.

She sighed happily as her eyes fluttered open, so dreamy and s.e.xy.

"Hi," she whispered as he rose up. "That was..."

"You are..."

Neither one of them could seem to finish their sentences. She scooted back into the pillows then lifted her hand, tracking the lotus design on his chest. She traveled lower, over his abs to his waist. She pushed down his briefs. He was sitting on his knees, still between her legs. No better place to be.

She ran her tongue across her lips as she freed his c.o.c.k, then took it in her hand and stroked him. Shuddering, he felt a bolt of desire tear through him as she rubbed her hand slowly up and down his d.i.c.k. He loved how she touched him. Absolutely f.u.c.king loved everything about it, from the way she ran her fingers over him to how her breath came fast and heavy as she gripped him.

Mostly though, it was her eyes. It was the way she gazed at him. She looked at him with so much want, so much desire, and so much more. Like she wanted him in all the same ways he wanted her.

His breathing turned erratic the more she touched him, the more she rubbed her hands all over him. The craving inside him multiplied; it rose exponentially as she stopped at the head of his d.i.c.k, spreading a bead of liquid over him. He groaned.

She whispered his name.

"Yes?" he answered, as he pushed off his briefs. His voice was soft, but it echoed, the only sound in his quiet home. It vaguely occurred to him that he hadn't stopped to turn on music or anything. He hadn't needed it though. The noises she made were all he wanted in his ears.

"I want to know how it feels without any barriers," she said, wrapping both hands around him now, leading him closer to the promised land.

The prospect of flesh against flesh, skin on skin, electrified him. But a kernel of worry set up camp, too, and he remained stock still as he asked, "Are you sure? I mean, should we?"

"I'm on the pill."

"But..."

"I wasn't when I was younger. The condom broke. The pill has been fantastic. But we don't have to if you're not comfortable."

"No, I want to. I just want to make sure it makes sense."

She nodded. "It does. It works."

He positioned his c.o.c.k between her legs and rubbed the head against her wetness. Roping her arms around his neck, she drew him closer. She spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips as he sank into her. He trembled from the absolutely exquisite feel of her hot p.u.s.s.y gripping his d.i.c.k. "You're so f.u.c.king wet," he said as he hitched her leg up higher, giving himself a better angle.

"I always am with you," she said, then raised her face to his and claimed his lips. She kissed him, and he f.u.c.ked her, and soon that was all he knew. The deep and primal drive to fill her. The heat flooding his body. Her fingernails running the length of his spine. And her mouth, her decadent, sinful lips fused to his, kissing him greedily as he took her.

Hard.

Deep.

Rough.

She let go of his mouth and yanked him closer, kissing his neck, his face, moving her lips to his ear. "I love the way you f.u.c.k me," she whispered, her voice fevered.

So fiery. She was so d.a.m.n fiery and pa.s.sionate. It drove him wild. "f.u.c.king you is amazing. Do you have any idea why it's so good?" he said in a heated voice as he stroked.

"Tell me."

"Because it's more than f.u.c.king." The words tumbled from his lips. He hadn't planned to tell her now, but he couldn't hold back. He couldn't pretend. She was more than this. She was so much more than the physical. He pulled back to look at her. Maybe he'd scared her. Maybe she'd freeze up again. But her lips were parted, her eyes were wide open, and she gazed back at him, not letting go.

"I know it is," she whispered, the words like poetry to his ears. Sweet, gorgeous music.

"It's more than what it used to be."

"So much more," she murmured as she moved with him. They were finishing each other's sentences, filling in what the other was saying. They both felt it. There was no other way.

Their bodies coiled together. She was slick and hot, and so was he, and he couldn't get close enough, couldn't have enough of her, couldn't imagine this stopping at just s.e.x. No, this was way more than f.u.c.king. It was f.u.c.king and falling at the same d.a.m.n time, and nothing-no drug, no drink, no high-flying parachute dive-had ever felt as good as coming together with the woman he desired madly.

Coming together...and falling apart.

She shivered as he ran his fingertips over her sparrows. "These are my favorite," he said, kissing them.

She trembled in his arms, her back to him as he held her. She barely felt like herself. She was some other version of Elle Mariano in these stolen moments with Colin. And she loved this version. She savored being this woman. Not a mom. Not a social worker. Not a woman with secrets that couldn't be shared. She wore only her bra and panties, and he was clad in his briefs. They'd eaten Thai while watching the final ten minutes of Goodfellas, reciting the closing lines together. Then they'd managed one more quick round, and now the clock was racing closer to the end of the night. She had to leave in thirty minutes.