Slow Heat

  look at her.

  “I love your mouth,” he breathed, kissing her bottom lip, and when she made another restless sound and reached for him, he gently took it between his teeth and lightly tugged.

  This caused an answering tug in all her good parts, of which there always seemed to be so many when she was with him, and then finally his mouth closed over hers again in a heavenly kiss that made her forget everything, including her own name.

  Chapter 19

  You can’t win them all but you can try.

  —Babe Didrikson Zaharias

  When Sam opened her eyes after another long, drugging kiss, the windows were completely fogged over. They were in their own world. She met Wade’s dark and scorching gaze. “This is bad.”

  “A good bad,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

  “Wade, the last time we did this, I smiled like an idiot for three days.”

  He smiled now. He had the sleepiest, sexiest bedroom eyes she’d even seen. “No,” she said, pointing at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when you do, I tend to lose my clothes in a hurry.”

  His smile widened, slow and sure, and spoke volumes. He liked when her clothes came off.

  Her nipples went even harder. “Fine. I want you. Okay? I admit it. I. Want. You.”

  “And the problem is?”

  That was easy. She had a difficult time recovering afterwards, and he did not. He wanted a physical relationship. She got that. And now he was falling for her. She knew what that meant to her, but what did it mean to him? He’d been rather vague.

  He ran a finger down her neck, then lightly back and forth over the base of her throat where her pulse raced, speeding up at his touch. Then his finger took a journey south.

  “You know what?” she managed, her brain running on sheer lust, overtaking the thinking cells as he traced the tip of her breast. “I can’t remember the problem.”

  “Atta girl.” His mouth was busy on her throat, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, settling on her ribs, making her babble.

  “Besides, this is a public event.” She gasped when he cupped her breasts. “Which means we have to be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? We’re—oh, God”—those fingers, those talented, knowing fingers plucked at her nipples—“entitled.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He hit the automatic locks on the door without taking his mouth off her. She let out a throaty moan, fisted her hands in his shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him. Kissed him while tugging up his shirt.

  No slouch, he unzipped her sweatshirt and slid it off her shoulders, revealing the spaghetti-strapped tank she had beneath. His fingers nudged those straps down as well and then her top was at her waist. Her bra vanished and so did his shirt, and their hands fought for purchase on each other’s zippers, all while they kissed; deep, drugging kisses that exploded her brain cells one at a time, an organized war against rational thought. She had no idea how much more time had gone by when she realized she’d lost her jeans and he had his mouth pressed to her belly. “Unbelievable,” she panted, leaning back in her seat to give him better access. “We’re at it again.”

  “It was inevitable.” He scooted down a little to kiss her hip and bumped his head on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

  She burst out laughing, she couldn’t help it, but the laughter backed up in her throat when he kissed her inner thigh. And even though she was already panting as if she’d been running a marathon, her breathing quickened even more as his mouth worked its way up her leg.

  “You have the softest skin,” he murmured against her, his thumbs hooking into her panties, his tongue getting closer to where she desperately needed it. “Lift up, Sam.”

  She lifted up and then her panties were gone and he was nudging her over the front seat into the back. He followed her, then with a big hand on each of her thighs, urged them open, kneeling between.

  Call her slow, but that was when she realized she was completely butt-ass naked and he wasn’t. “You’re overdressed.”

  “Sorry.” He stripped out of his board shorts so fast her head spun, and then he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it between his lightly clamped teeth, rolling his tongue around it until she cried out, her hands flailing for something sturdy because her world was spinning. She gripped the armrest in one hand and the back of the seat in the other, and when he ran a finger down her belly and between her legs, she arched up to meet his touch. “Hurry.”

  “Hell, no,” he said thickly. “We were in a hurry last time. I didn’t get to . . .”

  “What?”

  “This.” And he lifted her to his mouth.

  Sweet Jesus.

  His tongue shot her into instant overdrive, and when he added a finger into the mix, and then another, she came hard and fast. God, she was such a slut when it came to him. Her hips were still rocking, her breath still wheezing in her throat, her entire body still wracked in the after-shudders as she sat up and turned her attention to his most impressive erection. He was big and hard and she loved the way his breath caught when she stroked him, so she did it again.

  “Jesus.” He closed his eyes, his head dropping back. “I hope you’re going somewhere with this.”

  “Yes.” And she guided him into her. “How’s that?”

  His groan of pleasure was her answer as he hooked her legs over his forearms, leaned over her, and began to move.

  And oh, God, how he moved. It was as if he took her to another plane, every single time, and she gripped him tight, rocking to meet him, inarticulate, needy, little whimpers escaping her with each breath.

  Bending his head, he kissed her as he moved inside her, long and slow and deep, then gradually faster, building the tension, the unbearable need, all of it etched on his face. Just watching him was enough to nudge her over again, and this time he followed her into the abyss.

  He collapsed over her for a moment. Then with a groan, he managed to shift his weight, sitting up, pulling her over him, cupping her face until she opened her eyes.

  His hair was a little wild on the best of days, but now, from her fingers, it stood practically straight up. He had a mark on his shoulder that looked suspiciously like she’d bitten him, and a gleam in his eyes that said he was a very sated man. “You need a bigger backseat,” he said, his voice low and sexy.

  “I need some self-control.”

  He grinned. “Control’s overrated. But maybe next time we can make it to a bed.”

  A bed would probably kill her. Her clothes were in the front seat, so with a sigh, she went to climb over, then squeaked in startled shock when he sank his teeth into her butt. Dropping to the front seat, she glared at him. “Hey!”

  “Sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. “But you have an edible ass.” He was all sprawled out, lazily slipping his board shorts and T-shirt back on his body, and he looked like . . . like something she wanted.

  Again.

  Which was all his fault. Between his soft, “I’m falling for you” and then the wild, almost out-of-body orgasms he’d given her, she knew herself. She couldn’t keep it at just “play.” Grimly, she told him, “I have to get back.”

  “I know.” He ran a finger over the frown she could feel between her eyes. “I almost had that gone there for a few minutes.”

  “You did,” she admitted. “You have this odd ability to relax me and rev me up all at the same time.”

  He laughed softly. “Same goes.”

  “I just have to remember not to get used to it.”

  “Why?”

  “The month’ll be over soon enough.”

  He was quiet a moment, watching his finger play over her throat and shoulder. “We could always keep it going.”

  She ignored the hopeful leap her heart made. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Wade O’Riley?”

  His lips curved, but to her relief he didn’t push as she stared at him, trying to gauge which hea
d that comment had come from, the one on top of his shoulders, or the one in his pants. She decided it was far too dangerous to guess, and grabbed her clothes.

  “I’ve never seen you in jeans,” he said as she wrestled back into them.

  “I planned on changing before the carnival opened,” she said. “But once Tag went missing, I—” Lost it.

  And he’d helped her put it back together again. He’d made her feel better—Ah, hell. She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not getting in the dunk booth.”

  “Of course not. You clearly don’t feel better at all.”

  “Okay, stop that.”

  “Hey, I understand. You’re breaking your word.”

  “That’s low,” she said on a blown-out sigh. “You know I always keep my word.”

  He leaned back, hands behind his head as if he’d never been more comfortable, and just smiled.

  Dammit! “Fine. But I’m only doing this so you can’t hold it over me.” She eyed his body and had to fight not to leap over the seat again and eat him up. “And because as it turns out, I could use the cold dip.”

  His soft laughter followed her out into the night.

  Wade stood outside the dunking booth. He was waiting for Sam, who was changing her clothes for the booth. A few women approached him for an autograph, which he gave, but neither tried to write their phone numbers anywhere on his person.

  Progress.

  He had his picture taken by two other women, who asked where his pretty girlfriend was. He told them she was coming right back, and as they walked away, he realized with surprise that he was smiling.

  He liked the idea of being taken. Go figure.

  Pace and Holly appeared hand in hand, fresh off the Ferris wheel. Holly was glowing, Pace was looking pretty relaxed. Wade recognized the look, since he imagined he was wearing a matching one.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” Pace asked. “Oh, excuse me. Your pretend girlfriend.”

  “Shut up.”

  Holly smiled at Wade. “You’re getting close to figuring it out, aren’t you?”

  “Figuring out what?” Pace asked.

  “That it’s not pretend,” Holly said, still looking into Wade’s eyes.

  Maybe.Still didn’t make it any easier. “Don’t you two have booths to work?”

  “Aw.” Holly let go of Pace to give Wade a hard hug. “You’re so cute when you’re all turned upside down by a woman.”

  Pace was grinning over her head at him.

  “You’re really annoying,” Wade told him, and to return the favor, he hugged Holly in tight.

  “Hey,” Pace said. But when Wade kept ahold of his woman, he just sighed. “You’ve been getting whatever you want from women for years with one crook of your little finger. Watching you even attempt to get what you want from Sam, when you don’t even know what that is . . . well, that’s just good entertainment all around. Now, Goddammit, let go of her, she’s mine.” He grabbed Holly’s hand and tugged her to him.

  Holly laughed. “We still doing pizza after?” she asked Wade.

  Wade sighed. “Yeah.” He turned to look at the booth in time to see Sam climbing out onto the platform. He spent a few minutes watching her try to get comfortable up on the bench seat in a borrowed bathing suit top and shorts.

  She might be bossy and stubborn as hell, but she was one hell of a good sport.

  The line was at least ten people long, which was good. Lots of people meant lots of money, and lots of money meant more resources dumped into the 4 The Kids pockets. That’s what this was all about, but he couldn’t help but grin as he watched Sam warily eye the little kid at the front of the line, specifically the lever he had to hit in order to dunk her.

  Santos appeared with his boys and Tag at Wade’s side. “What’s Aunt Sam doing in there?” Tag asked Wade.

  “She’s in there because she likes me,” Wade said as he received dark, murderous looks from Sam.

  “Are you sure she likes you?” Tag asked doubtfully.

  “Yeah.” Wade smiled. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “You’re weird,” Tag said.

  The little kid at the front of the line threw his ball and missed the booth entirely.

  From inside the dunk tank, Sam took a visible breath of relief.

  The next kid in line missed as well.

  And the third.

  “Wow,” Tag said. “They all suck.”

  “Maybe not,” Wade said.

  “You know she’s going to get real mad if she goes in. She doesn’t like it when her hair gets wet after she straightens it.”

  “No?”

  “No. And she’s looking at you like you’re in big trouble. Are you in trouble?”

  “What would being in trouble entail?” Wade asked him.

  Tag shrugged. “Maybe no ice cream after dinner.”

  “Huh. I do love ice cream.”

  “Yeah,” Tag said. “But at least she’s nice even when she’s mad. She doesn’t ever get scary or anything. Well, except for tonight when she almost cried. That was scary.”

  Wade’s gut tightened as he took his attention off Sam and looked down at Tag. “You get scared back home?”

  Tag lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes. Like when I get left alone.”

  A slow burn churned within him for the way he’d been treated. Knowing all too damn well exactly how shitty it felt, Wade gently set his hand on Tag, glad the kid was safe here with Sam for now. Tag accepted the touch with only a little squirm—progress.

  The next kid missed and Tag made a sound of disgust. “What, can no one throw?” He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a few bucks. “I’m gonna show ’em how it’s done.”

  Wade gently squeezed Tag’s shoulder, holding him back. “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  Wade pulled another twenty out of his pocket.

  Tag’s eyes lit up.

  “To notdunk her,” Wade directed.

  “You want me to stand in line and miss?”

  “Yep.”

  Tag eyed the line and all the kids in it, and slid his gaze back to Wade. “You paid all of them?”

  Wade smiled.

  Tag just stared at him. “You sure she’s not your real girlfriend?”

  “Just don’t hit that lever, kid. I’m a lot tougher than your Aunt Sam.”

  Tag grinned and pocketed the money. “You so like her.”

  “Yeah.” Wade smiled. “Yeah, I do.”

  At the realization that the big, bad Wade O’Riley was nothing more than a sorry sap, Tag just shook his head. But then he said softly, “I like her, too.”