Rush (Breathless #1)(65)

She smothered another smile and blinked innocently up at him. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

“We’re getting the hell out of here,” he growled.

Before she could say anything, he grabbed her hand and hauled her toward the exit, his other hand reaching for his cell phone. Thank goodness she hadn’t brought a purse or it would have been left at the table!

In terse tones, he told his driver they were ready.

Outside on the sidewalk, Gabe retreated closer to the building, holding her protectively against his side, away from the passersby.

“Gabe, what about the bill?” she asked, mortified that they’d just walked out.

He gave her a patient look. “I have an account with them. I’m a regular here. I even have a standard tip added to each of my bills. So don’t fret.”

The car pulled up and Gabe hustled her inside. As soon as the doors were closed and the car pulled away, Gabe pushed the button for the privacy screen between the front and back seat.

Anticipation fizzed in her veins until it felt like she was a shaken-up bottle of carbonated soda.

He reached for the fly of his slacks, rapidly unfastening it. A second later, he pulled out his long, beautiful c**k and stroked it to utter rigidity. Her gaze was glued to him, the masculine ruggedness of his body.

“Pull up your dress and get on my lap,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Maneuvering up into the seat, she hiked up her dress, baring most of her thighs, and then Gabe scooted to the middle of the seat so she could straddle him.

He reached underneath her dress and slid his hand up the inside of her thigh to her bare pu**y, and he smiled in absolute satisfaction.

“That’s my girl,” he purred. “God, Mia. I’ve fantasized about f**king you in this dress and those killer heels ever since you walked out of the bathroom at my apartment.”

He slid one finger inside and then pulled it back out and up between them. It glistened with her wetness. Slowly he slid his tongue up one side of his finger and she nearly came on the spot. Holy shit, but the man was lethal. Then he put his finger to her mouth.

“Suck it,” he said huskily. “Taste yourself.”

Mortified but morbidly curious, she tentatively parted her lips, allowing him to slide his finger inside and over her tongue. She sucked lightly and his pupils dilated. His c**k surged upward, touching the mouth of her pu**y in an impatient gesture.

He reached down with his other hand to grasp his dick, and then he withdrew his finger from her mouth so he could grip her waist. Then he lowered her down, guiding his erection into the very heart of her.

Oh but it was decadent watching Manhattan fly by, the glow of the lights, the noise of traffic, while Gabe was f**king her in the backseat of his car.

Positioning both hands at her waist, he began to thrust upward, holding her in place as he arched up and then withdrew. Faster. Harder. It was a race to see if he could get them both off before they arrived at his apartment.

She came first. A frenzied, bright flash that blew over her with the force of a hurricane. She was left panting as he continued to plunge into her over and over. She gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life. And then the car began to slow.

Gabe erupted inside her, hot, spurting deep into her body. He pulled her all the way down onto his c**k until there was no space separating them as he flooded into her. The car halted in front of his apartment and Gabe hit the intercom.

“Give us just a moment, Thomas,” he said quietly.

Gabe sat there a long moment, his c**k still pulsing and twitching inside her. He raised his hands to cup her face and then he kissed her. It was a direct contradiction to the frenzied way he’d just taken her. It was long and sweet. Warm and so very tender. As if he conveyed by actions what he could never say in words. Would never say in words.

He pulled her to him and held her against his body as he stroked her hair. For several long moments she lay against him as he softened within her.

Finally he lifted her upward and angled her into the space beside him. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it between her legs before cleaning himself. Unhurried, he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened the fly, straightening his clothing while she pulled her dress down.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, too shaken, too wrecked to say anything at all. Anything she said wouldn’t make a bit of sense anyway.

He opened the door and got out and a moment later came around to open hers.

“You’re staying over again,” he said as they walked toward the entrance.

It wasn’t a request, but there was none of the usual arrogance in his voice. He said it matter-of-factly as though there were no other conceivable possibility. But then he looked at her, and brief uncertainty—so brief she wasn’t even sure if that was what she saw—flashed in his eyes.

But she nodded, confirming his dictate.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she said softly.

They rode up the elevator and as they stepped off, he pulled her back against him, using his body to block the doors.

“Wait for me in bed,” he said in a husky voice. “I won’t be too late.”

She leaned up and brushed her mouth across his lips. “I’ll wait.”

There was immediate satisfaction in his eyes. Then he nudged her forward and stepped back into the elevator so the doors could close.