Page 6 of Just One More Night

She’d been straddling him and that had meant she could look down into that astonishingly beautiful face of his and see it when something like amusement flickered there.

Nobody would dare steal from me, he told her.

Then his hand was on the nape of her neck and he’d brought her face down to his, so he could take her mouth once more.

And Indy stopped worrying aboutparking.

He’d shoved her skirt up and out of his way, wrapping his big hands around her thighs to pull them even further apart so she was mashed down against the thick bulge of his cock, a glory against her clit. And his fingers had slid beneath her thong in the back as he’d skated past her ass to find her wet folds. He’d opened her, then penetrated her with one finger.

Then another, finding her wet and hot and crazy for him, writhing to get even closer to him—his cock, his fingers, whatever worked.

He’d let out a long spate of swear words again, but that time, it had sounded like a song. Then he’d shoved her tank top up, securing the fabric beneath the strap of the little backpack she’d forgotten she was wearing, so he could get his mouth on her breast.

God. His mouth. On her breast.

In Prague, remembering, Indy felt herself flush all over.

Back in Budapest, she’d arched back as best she could between the steering wheel and his hard body, letting her head fall back into sheer bliss.

Indy had been lost somewhere between his mouth on her nipple as he sucked, hard, and the way she rocked her own clit against his cock. He was shockingly huge, and his fingers were blunt and too clever as they plunged inside her from behind.

In her head, it had gone on forever, but she doubted it had. Because she couldn’t take it and came again, clenching hard on his fingers.

You are a witch, he’d muttered.

Indy had felt like a witch. Sex was always fun...but this was something else. It was like every single part of her had been made for every single part of him. As if nothing he could possibly do to her would feel anything but amazing. Because they’d been built for this.

She’d looked at him and been his. Their eyes had met over a gun, for God’s sake, and there they were—and all Indy had wanted wasmore.

Reality couldn’t intrude. It hadn’t.

He’d reached between them. Indy had sat back as best she could, aware of the steering wheel digging into her in a way that should have been unpleasant, but wasn’t. She’d liked the little spear of not-quite-pain, because that had meant it was real. It had really been happening.

This liquid heat, this glorious, endless explosion had truly been happening.

And his cock was a thing of glory.

He’d pulled it out, wincing because he was so hard. Indy’s mouth had actually fallen open as she’d gazed down at where he rose between them. She’d felt her clit pulse and her core go molten.

You know what to do, he’d told her, and though his voice was quiet, there was that roughness to it, that command, that made her entire body break out in goose bumps.

But she’d felt that she did know what to do. That her entire life had been a dress rehearsal and that night in that SUV on an empty street in Budapest, of all places, had been the show, at last.

Indy had thought that very distinctly:At last.

She’d felt like crying. Like weeping with joy that she’d gotten to kneel up, even though her knees were still scraped—and that should probably have bothered her more. She’d felt emotional and beautiful and so connected to him it had hurt. It hadhurt,when Indy was all about her fun and her orgasms, but even the hurt of it felt good.

And that was before she’d braced herself with one hand on the headrest behind him. Then reached between them so she could guide the massive head of his cock to her pussy at last.

At last.

Because it had felt like she’d already waited a lifetime and she hadn’t even known his name.

But Indy had known it was true, even then. She’d been looking for him, for that wildfire connection between them and his dangerous saint’s face, for a lifetime already without realizing he’d been her goal all along.

Something she couldn’t have realized until she’d seen him, could she? Because only then had it been clear.

His hands had not been gentle. He’d shoved one into her hair and the other had gripped her ass, hard.