The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(59)

A few minutes later, he steered off the road and into what looked like a clearing of wild grass with a few oak trees around them, creating a little haven. He glanced over with so much heat in his eyes it stole her breath. Then he exited the vehicle, quietly shutting the door behind him. Walking to the front of the car, he rested his perfect ass on the hood.

Taking a deep breath, she got out as well and joined him. They were at the top of a bluff, the night sprawled out in front of them. They leaned against the car in silence, taking in the light wind and singing crickets, the hoot of an owl . . . and for Maze, the delicious scent of Walker’s soap or aftershave, along with the undeniable strength and heat coming from him.

She wanted him. She wanted him bad.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan when I asked you to come with me,” he said quietly. “I really just wanted to give you a moment away from the house and thought a drive would do it.”

“Thanks.” She sent him a small smile. “I’m starting to think there’s some sort of a chemical disorder between us.”

His mouth twitched. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

She wanted that mouth on her so much that she was shaking. “I blame the vibrations from every time you revved the engine, not to mention all the bumps on the fire road. I nearly had an orgasm on the drive up here.”

She’d meant to make him laugh, to lighten the heavy mood, but he turned toward her, eyes intense—oh so intense—and dark with desire. “The drive turned you on?”

No more than the low, rough timbre of his voice. “Maybe it was also a little bit the man driving.” She shrugged.

He slid his hands into her hair and tilted her face to his. “Again, I want to say that this wasn’t my plan for tonight.”

She wrapped her hands around his wrists. “Then thankfully you’re a man who knows when to deviate from your plan.”

At that, he finally smiled, his playful, sexy smile. And it was a doozy. “Yeah. I’m a real flexible guy.”

He lowered his head slowly, clearly giving her time to change her mind—which was not going to happen. Unlike him, she worked from the heart, on impulse. Yeah, it’d gotten her burned before, but she still couldn’t help herself. Not when it came to this man. “Walk?”

“Yeah?”

She stared at his mouth, still an inch from hers. “It’d be great if you could deviate faster.”

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting a long time for another shot at you.” Lifting her onto the still-warm hood, he leaned over her. “You’re not going to rush me.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

And then he finally kissed her, slow and deep. When their tongues touched, she moaned. At the sound, he pulled her even closer and looked into her eyes before dropping his gaze to take in the rest of her. She’d wrapped herself around him like he was a tree and she was a monkey getting ready to go for a climb.

“Maze.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you again. Tell me that’s okay.”

She nodded eagerly. If it was any more okay, she’d already be naked.

“The words, Maze.”

“It’s okay. Please kiss me, Walk. Now.”

He obliged with a sexy thoroughness that stole her breath. She heard herself whimper and slid her hands under his shirt to rest on his chest, where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. As they kissed, that heartbeat kicked into gear. She affected him, and the knowledge gave her a surge of power.

She had no idea how long they made out, she lost all track of time and place. She was adrift in the sensations, his lips on hers, his hands on her body, teasing her, bringing her to life, the sound of the wind and the night around them, the feel of the car beneath her. When they came up for air, his mouth moved down her neck, sending shock waves straight to her good parts, and there were most definitely more good parts than she remembered. Her fingers shook when she unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it off his shoulders. She was going for the zipper on his pants when he caught her hands.

“Don’t even think about stopping now,” she warned him.

He searched her gaze, his own dark and heated and sexy as hell. “Here then?”

“Here.” She ran her hands up his chest, cupped his head, and pulled him back in for another kiss.

With a rough groan, he tightened his fingers in her hair. “Do you remember what I said I was going to do if we got here again?”

“That you’d stop talking?”

He gave a low laugh. “That I wasn’t going to stop until you were panting my name.”

“I’m not much for making a lot of noise.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he unzipped the back of her dress and pulled the top down past her shoulders. He kissed the curve of her throat, her collarbone, moving southbound to the swell of her breast above her barely there bra. Then that was nudged down too, baring her to him and his mouth, which he used liberally.

She already knew that Walker loved to touch, loved to kiss and taste . . . everything. He was a tactile guy, and he could say more things with his body than his mouth ever could. He lifted her higher onto the hood. Then, standing between her legs, he ran his hands up her thighs, bringing the hem of her dress along with him, until the material pooled on his forearms, his hands vanishing beneath. His fingers played with the edge of her panties, teasing her through the lace until she gasped out his name in both entreaty and demand, which made him laugh low in his throat.