Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(47)

Rubbing his chin, he looked away. “I don’t know. I’ve always kept this part of my life separate. It wasn’t something I wanted people to know about.”

My heart fluttered, my breath catching in my throat. He never told anyone? Not even his family? And he’d invited me here to see him play?

Nora had been wrong about catching feelings. There was no catching involved. They smashed into me, shattering into my soul with a million tiny sparks, filling me with a warm tingly sensation.

He turned back, meeting my gaze, a disarming openness in his eyes. Right there, in that exact moment, I did a terrible, terrible thing.

I fell in love with my boss.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said.

“I know. I trust you.”

Biting my lower lip, I glanced down at my drink. My heart raced and my cheeks felt warm. He was so sexy and charming and nothing like the stoic robot I’d thought he was. He wore his Mr. Calloway persona like armor. But he’d let me in. Let me see a part of him he’d never shown anyone.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. Before I even started speaking, I could tell my filter was gone—smashed to pieces by Shepherd’s vulnerability. “Thank you for inviting me. Your band is amazing and you’re really good and I’m having a very hard time staying over here on my side of the table. Because you’re so sexy all I want to do right now is launch myself at you.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he stood and yanked me off my stool. His strong hands held me tight against him as he leaned down and took my mouth in a hard kiss.

I flung my arms around his shoulders and had to stop myself from jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. My fingers tangled in his messy hair as his tongue delved into my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and sex and potent masculinity. Under normal circumstances, I would have held back a little. After all, we were in a public place.

But there was no holding back now. His arms were hot steel around me, his delicious mouth tangling with mine. My heart beat furiously as he sucked on my lower lip, one hand moving beneath my shirt to splay across my ribs. I wanted to rip his clothes off—rip my clothes off—but a tiny part of me, way back in the recesses of my hormone-soaked brain, was still rational. We were in a bar, surrounded by people.

I pulled back, almost gasping for breath. “Where’s your car?”

“I’m parked out back.”

“Let’s go.”

He nodded, grabbing my hand, and led me through the crowd to a side door. My vision was hazy, my lips sensitive and swollen, every nerve ending attuned to him.

We burst out the door into a small parking lot behind the bar. A single bulb cast a dingy light over the cars. After the noise inside, it was almost silent. Just the hum of traffic a few blocks away.

His car unlocked automatically as soon as he got next to it. He grabbed the driver’s side door handle, but I put a hand on his chest.

“Back seat.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat. He opened the back door and practically shoved me inside.

As soon as he sat down, I climbed into his lap. My skirt hiked up my legs as our mouths crashed together, messy and wet. His hands slid up my thighs and I ran my fingers through his hair.

He eagerly licked into my mouth, his tongue sliding along mine. I already knew Shepherd was a fantastic kisser, but this was melting my brain. His lips were soft, but insistent, his hands grabbing me with demanding authority.

Pressing myself closer, I felt his hard-on through his jeans. Oh dear god, that felt good. His hands moved up my thighs and slipped beneath my panties to cup my ass. I rubbed myself against him, tilting my hips, indulging in a little friction against my clit.

“Fuck,” he growled into my mouth.

I’d never felt like this before. So frantic. I was on fire for him, my worries about what this meant burning away to ash.

His stubble on my face was deliciously rough. I couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue, his lips, his hands all over me. He pressed me against his erection and grunted as I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth.

My panties were soaked, the insistent pressure between my legs begging to be sated. His jeans looked sexy as hell, but right now, they were really in my way. Maybe if I just…

Still kissing him, I reached between us to unfasten his pants.

“Everly,” he mumbled. “I’m not—”

The button popped open. He grunted again.

“We’re not—”

I lowered the zipper.

His grip on my ass tightened and he pulled back slightly. “I’m not fucking you for the first time in the back seat of my car.”

First time… first time implied a second time which implied multiple times. I wasn’t just crossing a line out here. I was getting a running start and leaping over it, leaving the line far behind.

“I know,” I said and returned to kissing him while my fingers worked his zipper the rest of the way down. “I just want these out of my way.”

I hadn’t meant to expose him fully. The loose plan in my lust-filled brain was simply to remove the denim barrier between my desperately aroused lady parts and his very tempting cock. I just wanted to rub on him a little more while we made out. But he was so hard—and so big—he stuck out the top of his underwear. And the sight of that magnificent dick, glistening with a drop of precum on the tip, was too much to resist.