The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(95)

“Getting you out of these clothes,” he answered. His lips curled into a lopsided grin, and my heart screeched to a halt. His hands moved to my jeans, and in less than thirty seconds, I was stretched out on the smooth leather in nothing but my panties and bra.

“You know what?” I asked with my eyebrows raised.

“What?” he said absently as his eyes roamed over my body, drinking me in like a man who had finished a trek through the Sahara.

My hands moved to the collar of his shirt. I flicked one button open, then two and three. My hands kept moving until I parted his shirt, exposing his golden skin and his beautifully defined chest and stomach. “I think your clothes are a little wet too.”

He bent forward as I pushed his shirt from his shoulder. “You’re right. I think we both would benefit from sharing body heat,” he murmured right before his warm lips crushed against mine.

Our tongues tangled. Our mouths fused together. Our hands clawed at anything in our way.

Tasting.

Savoring.

Devouring.

Exploring.

Each additional piece of clothing we removed was like tinder feeding the bonfire of lust raging between us. Moans and whimpers harmonized with the pinging sound of the rain as it splattered against the car. Our skin stuck together from a combination of water and sweat as our bodies slid against each other.

I didn’t care that we were cramped together in the backseat of his car in a parking lot of a public park. I didn’t care that my life was spinning out of control at an alarming velocity. My need for control vanished whenever he was near me. Good or bad—I didn’t know, but it was the unvarnished truth, and I loved and hated it.

With fumbling hands, I shoved his pants down his legs, exposing the sharp angle of muscles adjacent to his hipbone. I traced the sculpted line to his erection.

“You make me crazy,” he whispered as his lips nipped, sucked, and kissed their way to my breasts. He sucked a hardened nipple into his mouth, and a burst of pleasure shot through my body.

I moaned, arching into him as I slid my hand along his length. Up and down, I caressed him as I alternated between watching his face and the glide of my hand. “I do?” My voiced sounded throaty and totally unlike me, which was fitting because I didn’t feel like myself around him. Instead of a controlled, principled person, I morphed into an adrenaline junkie ruled by impulses, emotions, and lust.

He rested his forehead against mine, his chest heaving. He stared at me as if he had summoned me by wishing on a shooting star. “You know you do. From the minute I saw you in that bar, I knew I had a problem. Maybe before then.”

I chuckled. “Good, because I suspected you were trouble.”

I pushed his chest. “Sit up,” I demanded.

“Not yet.” He smirked as his fingers traced the opening of my sex.

“Oh God,” I murmured. Each teasing motion of his finger intensified the needy ache in my core. Lifting my hips, I rocked against his hand wanting more, each languid circle of his finger more intense than the previous one.

Flushed and shaking, I mumbled hundreds of incoherent thoughts about needing him, wanting him, craving him, and not being able to live without him. Just as flames started rolling through me, he jerked his hand away from where I needed him. My eyes popped open.

“What the—”

His damp fingers rested against my lips, slowly moving back and forth. “Shh, I’ll take care of you.” He lifted me up, so I straddled his waist. “Do you want to do this here?”

At a loss for words, I nodded urgently, up and down like a bobble head doll. I would’ve laughed at myself if I wasn’t so focused on feeling him inside of me. In seconds, he grabbed my hips, rotating them back and forth over the tip of his erection.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Guide me inside of you,” he responded, his voice gruff and uncontrolled. I liked him that way.

I angled my body, and he sunk deep inside of me. I groaned as I grinded against him. He curled his fingers around my hips as his mouth collided with mine—a messy, wet combination of teeth, tongue, and lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slanting his head, breaking our kiss, and burying his head next to my neck. “This isn’t going to last.” He trailed open-mouthed kisses up and down my neck and behind my ear, sending tremors down my spine. Our bodies glistened with sweat and rain. Our exhalations fogged the windows as we rocked against each other, his hips colliding with mine.

He pushed me back against the seat, tilted my hips up, and slammed back inside of me. A jagged groan exploded from my mouth. “Oh God, right there.”

He gripped my hips, using them as leverage as he pounded inside of me. My head tapped against the door with every thrust. Delicious embers of pleasure spiraled through my body. I dug my fingers into his hips, forcing him to move faster, harder, and burying himself deeper until I felt boneless and complete.

I sunk my hands into his hair, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against mine, our moans and gasps tangled and danced until they became one stream ping-ponging back and forth between our mouths. Each flex and rotation of his hips lured me closer and closer to the finish line. Then, a bright light flashed behind my eyelids, and a cyclone of bliss whirled through me as all my nerve endings fired in a chorus of Hallelujahs.

After one final thrust, he tensed and then collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving and my legs still twisted around his waist. Our hearts thumped against each other as I smoothed my fingers through his damp hair.