She leans into my hand, and her lips part the slightest bit.

I crack.

I slam my mouth to hers.

I don’t take my time. I don’t ease into it. My lips crush hers, and I kiss her as if it’s all I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw her slide out from under a car in my garage. Since she sauntered up to me at the show weeks ago. Since the night in my tub.

I kiss her as if I’ve suffered without kissing her. She kisses me back the same way.

We aren’t gentle. We aren’t slow. We touch with fire and anger. She opens her mouth, and I sweep my tongue across hers, groaning as I devour her taste.

She’s fresh and cinnamony, and it strikes me that she brushed her teeth in the restroom. The fact that I don’t know if she did it for me or wherever she’s going next makes me crush her lips harder. I grab her face, clasping her cheeks roughly as I back her up to the Challenger and shove her against the hood.

Her hands slide up my chest, and lust licks my veins. She travels higher, roping her fingers in my hair then tugging on the strands to bring my mouth even closer to her—such a hungry little thing.

I consume her mouth, getting drunk on her cinnamon taste, craving more of it. Jamming my thigh against hers, I push her legs open.

Then I stop, my breath coming in harsh puffs. “I’m not thinking about what you’re doing tonight,” I hiss as I grip her hips and hike her up onto the hood.

“I’m not thinking about what you’re doing either,” she fires back with her smart mouth. Those lips are no longer glossy. They’re bruised and swollen. Good. I want to mark her. I want her to smell like me. I want her to wear the evidence of this moment all over her body.

I drag my fingers through her hair, yanking it. She emits a needy gasp. “So fucking pretty,” I growl as I bring my mouth down on that delicious neck. I kiss the column of her throat so hard I’m sure there will be a sandpaper trail from my stubble on her delicate skin. And she doesn’t seem to mind at all. She moans as I bring my mouth down on the hollow of her throat. I lick her there. Frantically, she opens her legs wider, as if she’s trying to draw me in to the V. Heeding her call, I shove my body against her, my hard-on rigid against her thigh. She draws a sharp breath as I press into her.

“I don’t care what you were doing at the Hudson,” I say, as I bring my teeth to her neck and bite.

A yelp rings out, but she wraps her legs tighter around me. I grind into her, letting her know how much I want to fuck her, letting her feel how hard she makes me. I bet she’s so fucking wet. Whatever grasp I had on common sense unravels in each rough press of my mouth to her neck. I bite, and I suck, and I devour her neck, keeping her hair wrapped tightly in my fist.

I grab her chin roughly in my hand, and meet her eyes. They’re dazed, glossy. She’s panting. “You fucking drive me crazy,” I mutter.

“And you’re nothing but a cruel bastard,” she says, narrowing her eyes as she scrapes at my hair again with her fingers. The lion in her is fierce tonight. She jerks my head back then pushes my face down, down, down and right between her tits. “So damn cruel.”

I yank up her T-shirt and bury my face in the most wonderful place in the universe. Jesus Christ, her tits are heaven. I shove the cup of her black lace bra to the side—of course she wears black—and bring my teeth down on her nipple. She cries out again.

“This nipple drove me insane in the tub.”

She freezes. “Is that why you kicked me out?”

I raise my face and lock eyes with her. She looks so fucking desperate right now. “I couldn’t take it. You moved in the tub, and I saw it, and I had to fight off every instinct to bite it.”

“Do it now,” she urges. Before she even says the last word, my mouth is wrapped around her, and she is as fucking delicious as I imagined. I moan with her in my mouth, my dick growing impossibly harder as I draw that tight peak between my teeth. I suck as she curls her hands around my skull.

I come up for air. Her brown irises are wild now, and she looks like an animal.

“You were such a jerk that night.” She drags her hands over my T-shirt, lingering on my pecs. “You need to take this off now for being such a complete ass.”

I grip the back of my shirt, yanking it off.

Her mouth falls open in the sexiest expression I’ve ever seen. “You’re so . . .”

She doesn’t finish the thought. She runs her fingers over my bare skin, exploring my pecs, my abs, my arms. Her nails travel along my bicep, tracing the outline of the bands there, then the hawk on my shoulder. When she returns to my chest, she draws the Celtic tattoo on my right pec. My skin sizzles in the wake of her touch. Her fingertips light me up. They send electricity everywhere.

I tug at the waistband of her jeans. “These are really fucking inconvenient, Henley.”

“Why?” Her voice is feathery.

I bring my mouth to her ear, nip the earlobe, and whisper, “Because I’m going to fuck you right now. I’m going to fuck you and make you come hard, and you need to take off these stupid jeans.”

I back up and rustle around in my back pocket for my wallet. I flip it open and grab a condom. She gives me her yes in her busy hands—they unsnap the top button of her jeans. Then she unzips and shimmies them down her ass.

“Wait,” I say, as I put the condom on the yellow hood.

“Why?”

I grab my shirt. “Sit on this.”

I slide the cotton under her ass. Then I help her, jerking one jean leg down to her boot.

“Fucking combat boots,” I mutter as I regard the long string of laces on her shoes.

“Idiot, they have a zipper.” She reaches and pulls the zipper down one side. I tug off the boot, tossing it on the floor, then pull off that jean leg only. No patience for both. She slides her black panties down that leg, and I can’t fucking breathe for a second.

“Holy . . .”

She’s so fucking wet and beautiful. Jesus Christ. Her pussy is divine. Pink and slick and utterly, fucking enticing, like the most delicious dessert ever. I can’t resist. I have to eat dessert first. I scoop my hands under her thighs, spreading them, and I bring my face between her legs.

“Oh God, Max,” she moans as I slide my tongue down her wetness. Her hands grip my head. She digs her nails in, and I love it.

One more lick, up and up, and then I suck on that delicious rise of her clit. It’s hard and soaked, and she jerks against me as I feast on it.

A long, low moan comes from her mouth. It’s my name. Then she purrs, “Do it again.”

I planned to fuck her. Hard and furiously. I swear I did. I had no intention to take a timeout to eat her. But her pussy is too fucking wonderful to deny. I flick my tongue against her clit, and she jerks against me again. She pulls my hair hard, yanking me even closer. “This is what you could have had that night in the tub,” she tells me.

I break contact for a second and meet her hot gaze, processing the enormity of what she just said—she wanted me that night, too. “It’s what I had when I jacked off after you left. Let’s see if you taste as good as you did in my filthy imagination.”

I return to her and drag my tongue down, lapping up all this decadent wetness as I go. A long, feral noise comes from her mouth. It sounds like please.

Ordinarily, I’d tease her. Make her beg. But, for all intents and purposes, she is already. Besides, just this second, I have no tolerance for games. Not hers, and not my own.

All I want now is to have her.

I lick my way back up her pussy to her clit, sucking on that little hard diamond of pleasure until she bucks against my mouth. She chants my name. She grips my hair. She rocks against me. Her fingers tighten against my skull. And then she fucks my face on the hood of the car until she comes like a rock star in under two minutes.

My name has never sounded so good as it does when Henley Rose Marlowe falls apart on my mouth. Her breathing is wild and her chest is heaving, and she’s absolutely glowing from her orgasm.

“I was wrong when I imagined how good you’d taste.” I am nothing but pride and desire as I straighten, unzip my jeans, and take out my cock. “You taste even better.” I grab the condom and roll it on as she comes down from her high. “And you come fast, tiger. Guess you like what I do to you.”

She opens her eyes only to narrow them at me. “It’s been a while. That’s all.”

I wiggle my eyebrows as I pinch the tip of the condom. Her eyes drift down to my dick. They widen. “Oh God,” she murmurs as she stares at my cock.

“Like what you see?”

“That’s a lot of inches.”

“How many?” I shake my head and put my finger against her lip. “Don’t guess. I want you to feel how many. Then see how fucking long it takes you to come again.”

“You ass,” she says sharply, as she grabs my cock and draws me to that sweet Promised Land.

“I’m glad you hate me so much,” I say as I rub the head against her slippery entrance.

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be that much better when you say my name again when you come for the second time.”

She sneers as I sink into her, and then there’s no more sneering, from her or me. Because holy fuck.

I still myself when I’m all the way inside her. “Jesus,” I mutter. “You feel so fucking good.”

“So do you,” she says softly.

She’s out of this world. She’s warm and tight and her pussy fucking welcomes me. She’s so goddamn aroused already that I have no problem filling her all the way.

She grips my shoulders, holding on as she rocks her pelvis up on my cock. “I bet you come first,” she says, in a challenging dare. “I already came.”

I grab her chin as I ease back out. “And you fucking will again,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I doubt it. The first was a fluke. It’s been a long time, like I said.”

I grab her thighs, yank her closer, and punch my hips into her.

“Oh God,” she gasps.

“That’s right, tiger. You’re too fucking wet to only come once.”

I drive into her again, and a sharp intake of air is her response.

“What made you so wet, tiger?” I ask, riling her up.

She shuts her eyes and bites her lip.

I slide back out, inch by inch, so just the tip is in her. “What got you so turned on?”

“Max,” she moans, like a protest.

“Was it the way I ate you out and made you come in less than two minutes?”

I rock back into her, filling her to the hilt and letting a jolt of heat rocket over my skin. “Oh wait,” I say, whispering roughly in her ear. “Was it how I kissed you before I even took your clothes off? Was that what made you so fucking turned on you came in seconds?”

Her eyelids flutter closed.

I grab her hips and angle her up more so my cock slides against her clit as I fuck her with long, deep strokes that seem to drive her wild. She can’t answer me. She only moans and groans.

“Tell me, Henley. What made you so wet?” I drop my hand between her legs and rub her clit.

She lets out the longest, sexiest sound. “Oh God . . .”

I slide out so I’m barely in her at all, and she shakes. “Say it. Say it was the way I kissed you,” I command as I rub circles over her clit. A tremble spreads over her body, and watching it overtake her from her chest down to her belly is breathtaking. She’s beautiful and sexy, and trying so hard not to give in to everything she feels. I swivel my hips and pound into her.

“Your mouth,” she shouts at last. “Oh God. It was your mouth. It’s the way you kissed me. It’s how I want to be kissed.”

She throws her head back, exposing her beautiful neck. I smother her skin in kisses as I fuck her hard, rub her clit, and bring her to the brink.

Her eyelids squeeze. “Oh God, Max. Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She’s close again. She’s chasing pleasure. And I want her to catch it. I really fucking do. But I want her admission, too.

I freeze with my cock buried deep inside her. “Say how much you want me,” I tell her, my voice rough and husky.

She whimpers.

“Say it and I’ll make you come so fucking hard. I promise.”

She cries out in frustration, her fists smacking my chest.

“Open your eyes,” I tell her, and she does.

I stare into those brown irises. “Say you want me . . . because I fucking want you so much.”

Something in her bursts free. She loops her hands around my neck. “I want you. I want you so much,” she shouts, and then I give it to her, fucking her through her next orgasm as she cries out in bliss.

She’s limp, fucked within an inch of her life, but I’m not done.

I tug her off the car, pull out, and spin her around. “Hands on the hood, tiger,” I say, and she listens, flattening her back and spreading her palms across all that yellow metal. She lays her cheek on the Challenger and looks back at me with dazed, lust-filled eyes. I run a hand down her one bare cheek, then I shove into her hot, tight pussy once more.

And then we fuck it out.

All this anger.

All this frustration.

All this almost . . . hate.

I fuck her until she screams my name again. As she comes, I grip her hair and yank it hard.

There’s nothing left but white-hot desire. I’ve never felt it like this before. Not for this long. Not with this kind of intensity. I pump into her, gripping her hips, until it’s my turn.

I groan as an orgasm barrels down my spine, speeds through my body, and seizes me. It takes over, and it’s a thousand times better than the solo one against the door. Hell, it’s a million times better than I imagined.

Then it’s more, when I collapse on her and she turns her face to mine and dusts my cheek with a soft, tender kiss. I’m still groaning in pleasure, but I manage a smile, too.

I gently flip her over, pull her up against my bare chest, and give her a soft kiss on her lovely, swollen lips.

“Mmm.”

Then I whisper in her ear, “Knew I could make you come more than twice.”

“That’s because your dick is eight and a half inches.”

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s not the size that does it.”

“Then what is it?”

I’m about to tell her it’s how much I want her, it’s chemistry, it’s this sizzling connection between us. But a bell dings.

Shit.

We both scramble, and Henley yanks up her panties and jean leg. I pull off the condom and ball it up in the wrapper and stuff it in my pocket. I’ll throw it out later. The soles of heavy shoes pound through the entryway office. I grab my shirt and tug it on. As Henley adjusts her shirt and stuffs her foot into her boot, she shoots me a who the hell is here look.

“Probably one of the guys,” I say, my heart beating faster.

“Hey, boss.”

It’s Sam. A curious look spreads on his face as he takes in the scene—the tangled mess of her hair, the bee-stung lips, the wet spot on my shirt.

Pride surges in me, yet so does another feeling.

Hypocrisy.

I told Sam to watch what he said to the mechanic at John Smith. And here I am, fucking the lead builder on the hood of a car Sam’s working on after hours.

“We’re just working on the . . .” I point to the Lambo.

“I need to go. I have a . . . I have a thing,” Henley says, and then nods at my guy. “Hey, Sam. Good luck with the Challenger.”

She grabs her purse from the chair and hightails it out of here.

As I catch the parting glimpse of her with that big bag on her shoulder, I remember the change of clothes in it. And as I help Sam with the engine on the Challenger, all I can think about is what her thing could be.