Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss #1)(5)

“I don’t have a Porsche.” He shifted in an attempt to stretch out farther before realizing it was a futile effort. “I have a Lamborghini Aventador. Hot red, and baby, she’s a sweet ride.”

Molly had no idea what kind of car that was, but it sounded fast and dangerous and sexy. Like Fox. “So,” she said, her toes curling, “would you let me drive your Lamborghini?” Her voice came out a little breathless, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.

“Sure, Molly. If you promised I could do hot, dirty things to you before, during, and after.”

Squeezing the steering wheel, she stared out at the road, the city center vibrant with groups of young males trying to make time with club-going girls in tiny glittering dresses and strappy tops—clusters of laughing wildflowers unworried by the autumn chill. Molly had never been that young, that carefree, had never stepped foot in a club after that first time in college—when she’d come face-to-face with the girl who, as a na?ve and love-struck underage schoolgirl, had been photographed naked in the backseat of Molly’s father’s car.

She’d certainly never had a one-night stand.

Except now she had a rock star in her passenger seat, and they weren’t planning on ending the night with a cup of tea and nice, polite conversation. “We need to stop at a pharmacy or a convenience store,” she said, trying to act like the sophisticated woman he no doubt expected her to be, even as her hands threatened to tremble.

“Sure.”

“You’re going in.” Molly wasn’t ever going to be sophisticated enough to brazenly walk into a store at ten at night to buy protection.

“Okay.”

Molly asked herself what she was doing. Really, what was she doing? The idea of Fox in her bed, his strong hands, his mouth—that delicious, delectable mouth—on her flesh, it stretched her nerves to breaking point. Fantasy was one thing, but to take the next step? To make it real? Especially when she hadn’t exactly done any of this before? It made her throat dry up, her skin go alternately hot then cold.

“When did you pick me?” The words just tumbled out, her normal filters shredded by his proximity.

“Pick you?”

“For tonight.”

A small, charged silence, the car turbulent with smoldering male energy. “That’s an insult, any way you cut it.”

Her cheeks burned. “You’re right,” she said, knowing she’d just blown all chances of pulling off any kind of sophistication. “I’m sorry.”

That gritty purr was gone from his voice when he said, “Hey, I’m a musician. We all sleep around.”

“I’m a librarian,” she blurted out, unable to take the sexual tension entangled with the biting edge of male fury. “Everyone knows we’re repressed old ladies with too many cats.”

A chuckle. “Clever, Molly.” Again, he stretched out his legs, or tried to. There was simply too much of him to fit in her little car. “You know, if I go into a store and buy condoms, it’ll be all over the tabloids tomorrow that I f*cked a local.”

She felt her cheeks heat again. At this rate, she was going to have third-degree burns by the time they got home. “Wear a disguise.” She fought to keep her breathing shallow, but it was no use—Fox’s scent had bonded with every molecule of air in the car.

“Where am I supposed to get a disguise, Miss Molly?” The teasing question was abrasive silk over her skin.

Biting down on her lower lip, she told herself to focus. “There’s a cap in the backseat, sunglasses in the glove compartment.”

He found the items, tried them on before ripping off the sunglasses. “I wear these girly things and my cock will shrivel up.” It was a growl. “Cap’ll do. Long as they don’t notice the ink.”

“Just act shady,” Molly said, her breasts straining against the lace of her bra, the fabric rasping against the taut tips. “The clerk will be so worried you’re planning to shoplift or do something else nefarious”—Nefarious? Really, Molly!—“that he won’t notice anything else.” As long as the clerk wasn’t female.

No woman would ever miss a single tiny detail about Fox.

“You think I can look shady?” A single finger traced the line of her jaw.

Her body wanted to whimper. “You have five o’clock scruff,” she managed to say past the sheer want choking her, “you’re dressed in black with a ball cap pulled low, and your left arm is covered in scary tattoos.” In truth, she found the ink beautiful, wanted to explore the artwork slowly and in intricate detail. “Yes, I think you can do shady.”

A chuckle, deep and low. “You’re mean under the blushes. I like it—I’ll also like licking up that blush from every inch of your body… after I use my tongue to get you off.”

Molly forgot how to breathe.

When she didn’t respond, he said, “Not even a little peek? I’ll start to think you don’t like the look of me.”

Instinctive self-defense had her saying, “You know exactly how gorgeous you are.”

She caught his shrug out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s a face. It’s mine. I don’t want to kiss my own face. I want to kiss yours—while we’re skin-to-skin and I have my cock balls-deep in you.”