Fire Inside (Chaos, #2)(50)

Because Hop made it that way.

And, well, Molly, but Molly was Hop’s so I decided to give him the credit.

“Kincaid? Party of six?” We all turned to the hostess and she smiled. “We had a table open up early.”

“Well, isn’t this an all-around lucky day?” I declared, curving an arm around Molly and turning us both to the hostess.

No one answered. I didn’t care.

It was a lucky day and I was hanging onto that.

The hostess took us to the table.

Hop smoothly engineered a seating situation where he sat by me, which meant he could press his thigh against mine and steal touches to my leg and, outwardly casually but anything but, hook his arm around the back of my chair when we were talking and not eating.

Dad didn’t miss it and wasn’t happy about it, casual or not.

Mom pretended to ignore it.

Molly and Cody didn’t catch any meaning to it.

I loved it.

*

“Will they be okay for fifteen minutes?”

I whispered this in Hop’s ear.

It was late August. There was no snow but the golden leaves of the aspens seemed to glitter in the sun, and the mountain air was a shade nippy. Waning summer was on the mountain, which meant daytrippers and weekenders were abundant, and someone had organized kids’ games on the base of a slope.

Therefore, Molly and Cody were currently engaged in a three-legged race with a gaggle of other kids. My guess was they’d win seeing as Hop had given them what he promised, and they were both currently burning through the sugar high to end all sugar highs.

Mom and Dad had murmured that they needed a sit-down with a cup of coffee so they were in a coffee shop down the main drag of Lionshead Village.

This meant Hop and I were alone.

He turned his head and looked at me with warm curiosity. “You good?”

“I will be,” I told him. His head cocked in question and I moved, walking away from the slope to the side of a building where there were public restrooms.

One of them was a single for handicapped people.

I had to admit, I felt some guilt about occupying a handicap bathroom as I walked to it, but when I looked back at Hop, I liked the curiosity I saw in his features.

But the need was on me.

I slid through, holding the door open for him.

He slid in behind me.

I let the door close and locked it.

“Lady, what the f*ck?” he asked and I turned to him.

Then I walked right to him, pressing my chest against his and cupping his crotch in my hand.

His head instantly bent to mine, his hand driving into the back of my hair and fisting as he growled unintelligibly against my mouth.

Then he asked, his voice rough, “You seriously down with this?”

“Absolutely,” I whispered. “Hurry.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, slanted his head and kissed me, backing me up until I hit wall.

That was all I needed. Hop’s mouth. Hop’s body.

Hop.

I was ready.

Then again, I was ready before I walked in just knowing Hop was following me.

His hand in my hair, his other one tugged forcefully at my belt buckle, undoing it, then the button of my jeans, then the zip went down and his hand went in.

God, that felt good.

I moaned into his mouth.

“Get these off,” he ordered. “Now.”

Heretofore unknown illicit excitement bolting through me, I moved immediately to do what I was told. It wasn’t easy because Hop didn’t move, his chest pressing into mine, which pressed me into the wall. His hand went to the back of his jeans to get his wallet.

I yanked down my jeans as best I could then shifted my legs to tug them off over my boots, kicking them aside, repeat with my panties.

Hop was free, hard and gloved by the time I did this and he growled, “Hop up.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hopped up.

He caught me at my ass, pressed me into the wall. My legs curved around his hips and he thrust in, hard and deep.

I shoved my face in his neck, held on tight with arms and legs and whimpered.

“Fuck me, goddamn hot,” he grunted into my neck, pounding between my legs.

“Harder, baby,” I urged breathlessly.

He thrust harder.

“Tip for me, Lanie,” he rumbled into my neck and I tipped my hips toward him. He drove deeper and my breath hitched loudly.

“Love that,” I panted.

“Me too, honey.”

“Love it, Hop,” I gasped, suddenly close and it was going to be mammoth.

“Hold on, lady.”

I held on harder than I already was holding, and he moved a hand from my ass to the back of my head half a second before I came, my head shooting back, slamming his hand into the wall.

“Look at me,” he ordered roughly.

I trembled in his arms, holding tight, unable to do anything but feel the beauty of the high.

His hand fisted in my hair. “Lanie, f*ckin’ look at me.”

With effort, I struggled through the haze, dipped my chin and looked at him.

He kept pounding, stopped, ground in, and I whimpered.

“All soft, every inch. Got my dick buried in beauty,” he grunted.

I loved that too.

A lot.

I put my lips to his. “Keep f*cking me, honey.”