After fully seating herself on top of him, he thrust his hips. Monica clung to his shoulders for support. Her pussy throbbed around him. Had anything ever felt so good? She couldn’t remember. But then, she could barely recall her own name.

Cal fucked her at a lazy pace, taking her higher with each long stroke. Monica tried using her hips to increase the speed, but Cal stopped her by lifting her off his dick.

“What?” she gasped, confused and in need. “Don’t stop. You said a good hard ride. Those were your words.”

“I changed my mind. I want to see how long you can hold out.” He lowered her back down, but taking control of her body, refused to let her move any faster. Cal worked her the way he wanted, bringing her to the brink of satisfaction but not letting her fall over.

Monica closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his cock pulsing in and out of her. She ceded control, understanding that she’d never had it in the first place. She didn’t know what Cal would do next, and that unexpected quality had her shivering with need. She just hoped he’d let her come soon. “I’m close,” she panted.

He rubbed his jaw against her breast. “Want to go fast now, do you?”

“Yes, already.”

His chuckle sounded more like a growl than a laugh. But he increased the pace by lifting her faster and bucking his hips, ramming into her with swift, deep strokes. That’s what finally made her spiral.

“Cal, don’t stop. God.” Monica’s pussy clamped down. Delicious tension ran through her entire body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She could only hang on and ride out the waves of pleasure filling her. As Cal continued to thrust, another shock wave burst inside her. Closing her eyes, she cried out. Her inner walls clenched in time with her heartbeat.

Finally, Cal came too. Over and over he drove inside her, until his own orgasm left him shaking.

Though their bodies stilled, Monica didn’t let go of his hair, just as he kept a firm hold on her waist. They remained there, united, quiet.

Eventually, Cal loosened his hold. Kissing her temple, he stroked Monica’s back with one hand. “I want to make you do that again.” With a contented sigh, he gazed up at her. “That was even more amazing than I imagined it would be.”

“You imagined what it would be like?” she asked.

He softly stroked her hip bone as Monica lifted herself off him. Then he reached around her and opened the glove box. Extracting a package of tissues, he got rid of the condom. “Of course, didn’t you?”

“Nope. Never.”

“Don’t play poker, darling—you’ll lose every time.”

A smile took over her mouth and didn’t want to let go. Of course she’d thought about sex with Cal. For the last five years. And it was better than her hottest fantasies.

They huddled together, with Monica lounging on top of him. Cal’s arms hugged her loosely, and Monica smoothed a stray piece of hair from his forehead. She felt so relaxed, with her body curled around his—the close quarters, the dark night, the chirping hum of cicadas in the distance—she never wanted it to end. But her phone vibrated and broke the sensuous cocoon.

Monica had tossed her bag into the backseat. She had to reach past Cal to get it, which left her breast even with his mouth. He nibbled the underside, causing her stomach muscles to contract. “Cal.”

“Just turn it off. I like it out here, just the two of us.” His hands spanned her ribs and slid up to cup her breasts.

Before she could reach the phone, it stopped its annoying buzz.

“See, isn’t that better?” Cal tweaked both of her nipples into points. She began to ache for him all over again.

She pressed her nose to his neck and took a deep breath. He smelled of manly heat and wild sex. She felt great. Vibrant. Full of energy.

Monica liked that Cal didn’t treat her as though she were fragile, that he took control. Her ex, Ryan, had been a very attentive lover, but she felt like a freak when she’d asked him to pull her hair one night. He’d given her a look of such shock, Monica had never asked for anything in bed again.

“I’m getting cold,” she said, snuggling against him, trying to absorb some of his body heat.

Cal reached into the backseat and grabbed his shirt. He settled it over her like a blanket, then cradled her in his arms. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Resting her head against his shoulder, she started to drift off. This was surreal. Cuddling naked in the middle of the desert with blast from the past Calum Hughes. It had been a perfect evening.

But reality came calling when her phone vibrated again, shattering her mellow. As pleasant as it was, they couldn’t stay there all night. At some point, they had to go back. “I should get that.”

“Tell them to get stuffed.”

Monica reached for her bag. Cal’s fingers caressed her waist as she pulled out her phone. “Hello?”

“Monica Campbell?”

“Yes.”

“This is the emergency room at Las Vegas Memorial Hospital. You’re listed as Ryan McMillan’s emergency contact. He’s been in an accident.”

Her heart stuttered. A dozen horror scenes raced through her mind. “Oh my God, is he all right? What kind of accident?”

“He broke his leg, and he’s had some pain medication. If you can’t come and get him, he’ll have to spend the night.”

Cal stroked her upper arm. “Who is it?” he whispered.

Monica shrugged him off. “I’m outside of Vegas, but I’ll be there in an hour.” She hung up and started hunting for her bra.

“What is it, love? Talk to me.”

Monica grabbed her dress from the driver’s seat and jerked it over her head. To hell with her bra. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her thong, she tugged it back into place. “I have to get to the hospital. Can you drive?” She didn’t trust herself; she was too shaky.

“Of course.”

Monica reached past the steering wheel, bumped her chin on the stick shift, and snagged her shoes next to the pedals. “Thanks.”

Cal refastened his jeans. “Who’s been injured?”

“My ex. Some kind of accident, they said.” Opening the passenger door, she awkwardly climbed over Cal and stumbled out of the car. After slipping into her shoes, Monica smoothed the dress down over her hips. “I have to pick him up now, or he’ll have to stay all night.”

“Monica, look at me.”

She stopped her frantic movements and stared at him.

“I’ll get you there,” he said. “And he’s going to be fine, or they wouldn’t release him. Okay?”

She nodded, and the fear darting along her nerves lessened. Cal was right. If it were life-threatening, he’d be in surgery or something. It was just a broken leg. She hoped. “Yeah, okay.”

Cal shrugged into his shirt and scooted to the driver’s seat. Before he started the car, he pointed at her hair. “You might want to tidy up a bit.”

* * *

Well, how was that for bloody poor timing? Just when Monica had finally started acting herself, letting her guard down, her bloody ex-boyfriend had to cock things up. This was not how Cal wanted to spend the rest of the evening. This episode had been a prelude.

Cal wasn’t done shagging Monica Campbell, not by a long chalk. In fact, now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted another go. And another.

As he navigated the highway, Cal shot her a glance. Monica’s spine had become ramrod straight. Nervous tension leaked from every pore. She bit on her thumb and stared mutely out the window. Her busy mind worked overtime yet again.

With that one phone call, she’d reverted back to that uptight woman with the unattractive suits. But he’d had a glimpse of the real Monica. The one who drove fast and enjoyed hot sex out in the wide-open desert. And came so hard, she gasped with abandon.

When Monica said she wanted to drive the Mustang, Cal had no idea what a turn-on it would be—the joy on her face, the look of fierce concentration as she shifted. He grew hard all over again just thinking about it. But now Miss Prim was back. Damn shame, that.