Sliding my hands down to his pants, I rub my open palm over the bulge in his pants. He feels so long and thick, and so very hard. The aching tightness in my core melts with need as I rub against him more fervently.
Groaning, he grabs my ass and squeezes firmly. He grabs my chin and takes my mouth captive again. He runs his hand under my shirt and up my bare belly, taking my breast in his large palm and roving his thumb over my painfully tight nipple through my bra.
God, this feels good. Good in a way I’ve never experienced before. Good because I want it. I want Daren and his mouth. I want Daren and his hands. I want Daren and his…
Then reality hits me.
What am I doing? Making out with Daren Ackwood against the back wall of a bar? No. I’m not this person. I’m careful. Cautious. I don’t get swept away like a horny teenager and give in to my every whim—even if that whim is telling me that I like Daren’s fingers inching my bra cup down to reach my naked nipple. This is the opposite of what I do.
“Wait,” I say, panting as Daren’s soft lips brush against my throat. Again.
I instinctually tip my head back and groan. Why does this have to feel so good?
He pulls back slightly, just as out of breath as I am, and slowly slips his hand out of my bra. My nipple aches in protest, wanting to be plucked and prodded again, as my core continues to pulse and ache.
Clutching me against the wall in his strong arms, he searches my face with his deep brown eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah… I’m good.” I swallow, tasting him on my tongue. “I’m really good. I just… I have to stop.”
I wait for him to argue like most guys would do. Or nuzzle my neck and say something sweet to try and get me to reconsider. But instead, he nods and gently sets me back on my feet.
“Yeah. Sorry,” he says. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he rubs a hand over his mouth. “I sort of got carried away there.”
I blink, surprised by his conceding response. “No, you’re fine. Sorry. It’s—it’s just…” I reach for the right words. “I… I just can’t…”
He waves me off with a small smile. “No, I get it. We’re good.”
“Are we?” I squint at him, still out of breath and quivering between my thighs. “Because we agreed to be handcuffed together tomorrow and I don’t want things between us to be weird.”
He raises a brow. “Weirder than being handcuffed while we track down a letter?”
I can’t help but smile.
“It’ll be fine,” he says. He must see the uncertainty in my eyes because he adds, “Really. This never happened.” His smile falters a bit, but his pleasant expression is genuine, which makes me wonder if maybe I was too hasty putting the brakes on our tongue tango.
I’m grateful that he’s being so cool but at the same time slightly disappointed that he isn’t fighting harder to keep me in his arms.
God, Kayla. What is your problem tonight? You do not hump guys you barely know in parking lots. Pull it together!
“Right.” I nod once. “This never happened.”
He takes a few steps back and takes a deep breath. “Want me to walk you to your car?”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “No. I’m fine. But thank you.”
I don’t trust myself at all right now. Nothing about the last ten minutes was normal behavior for me. Who knows what I’d do if Daren walked me to my car? Probably invite him back to my motel room for some shaggy-rug shagging. God.
“Okay. Well.” He nods. It’s awkward.
I lift a shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yep.” He grins. “Bright and early.”
We step farther away from each other and do a weird almost-wave as we say good-bye. Then I turn and slip out the courtyard gate before darting away. If it weren’t so dark and eerie in the parking lot, I would hang my head.
Instead, I keep my chin up and my eyes alert until I’m safely shut inside my car, then start the engine as I remind myself that this never happened. It never happened.
Except it absolutely did.
The next morning, I slip back into my royal blue blouse and pencil skirt before driving to Mr. Perkins’s office.
Sleep was a lost cause last night. My mind was too busy racing with possibilities of an inheritance from my father, and scolding myself for getting hot and heavy with Daren.
I still don’t know why I gave in to him so easily. Sure, he’s attractive and charming but so are a lot of guys, and you don’t see me wrapping my legs around every hot man who passes me on the sidewalk, and then rolling my hips up against their hard bodies.
A warm shiver runs through me, turning me on at every nerve ending as the memories of last night swim around my head. The whole thing was complete madness.
One minute, we’re talking about being strangers, and next minute, Daren’s kissing and touching me like a bandit. Like a super stealth bandit.
Never in my life have I been so turned on—and we were only kissing. I can only imagine the levels of arousal I’d reach had his hands wandered to truly naughty areas. Maybe all the stories Lana told me about Daren were true. Maybe he is some kind of woman whisperer.
But it doesn’t matter. Stopping before things got naughty was the right thing. I wanted so badly to just let go and get swept up in the desire of it all, but when sanity peeked through my lust and reminded me that I couldn’t get caught up in a guy right now I knew I had to listen.
I’ve spent the past few years taking care of my mother instead of myself, and the past few months just trying to scrape by. The last thing I need is another complication.
I don’t have anything in my life figured out. But I have a clean slate. It’s a dirt-poor slate, wandering aimlessly through the Arizona desert, but it’s mine to start over with and throwing a guy into the mix won’t do me any good.
I need to get my life in order and figure out what my future holds before I even think about getting involved with someone. And while meaningless sex might work for some people—probably people like Daren—it’s not my style. But oh how I wish it were because damn. It felt good to be touched.
I reach Mr. Perkins’s office and quickly park before climbing out of the car in my high heels.
The inheritance really could be only twenty dollars—or less—and spending an afternoon chained to Daren Ackwood to find it could be a complete waste of time, not to mention horribly awkward given our romantic encounter last night, but it’s worth a shot. Because if it turns out to be a substantial amount of money, everything could change.
Not only could I go back to nursing school, but I could afford a decent apartment and buy myself some time to find a new job—one where my boss isn’t demanding I work for free or flash him in order to pay off my mother’s debt.
Ugh. My life can really only go uphill from where I’m at.
I know money can’t buy happiness, and I believe that. But it would be nice to be out from under Big Joe’s threatening thumb. And sleeping in a cockroach-free apartment while eating regular hot meals wouldn’t be bad either.
I hurry down the sidewalk toward Mr. Perkins’s office, tripping a little in my shoes. Maybe wearing the skirt and heels again wasn’t such a great idea. But I wanted to look professional and responsible, and the gray dress is too hot and the only other pair of shoes I own are my beat-up sneakers from last night. I didn’t think a pencil skirt and a pair of dirty sneakers really said I can be trusted with my deceased father’s money. So I went with the pumps.
I wobble as my shoe catches on a small pebble and curse under my breath.
High heels really are a bitch.
Up ahead, I see Daren round a corner and hurry toward the office, now just a few yards down the sidewalk. I relax a little, knowing he’s not there yet. As we near each other, my stomach fills with butterflies. I don’t know what I’m more anxious about—the inheritance or seeing Daren.