“I can’t believe you’re so stubborn that you refused to let me drive.” Garret navigates the tight turn into the Dovetail’s parking garage and slowly drives toward the far end of the garage. I twist in the passenger seat to glare at him. “Is it a Superman complex or a possessive thing?”

Garret glance at me. “A Superman complex?”

I roll my eyes. “You were married to a shrink. Surely, she mentioned it from time to time.”

“Not that I remember.”

“It’s where a guy is so determined to prove that he’s Superman that he refuses to admit that he needs help, ask for directions, or that he may be concussed and shouldn’t have driven.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m not concussed.”

He pulls into the second to last space at the far end of the parking garage, an end that I’ve never used. Based on the cars parked here, it’s reserved for tenants who don’t mind spending as much on their ride as they do their rent. “I don’t have a headache. If I don’t touch the point of impact, there’s no pain at all. Besides, it’s less than a half hour drive from Catalina to here.”

“That’s a great defense. ‘Really, Your Honor. It was such a short trip, I didn’t think the fact that I was seeing double should matter’.” Garret laughs at my attempt to impersonate him. “I’m sure that the judge will agree with you and therefore move heaven and earth to keep you out of jail.”

Garret kills the Trofeo’s engine. “We don’t have to worry about what your hypothetical judge might have done or said, because we’re home and I didn’t get into a hypothetical accident.”

“That makes it all better,” I grumble. “I’m starting to think you’re one of those guys who doesn’t let anyone drive their car.”

Garret’s brows shoot up. “That’s what this is all about? You wanted to drive? Why didn’t you say so? I would have let you.”

“Because I didn’t want to drive your car.” Though now that he’s mentioned it, the Trofeo does look like it’s more fun to drive than my little sub-compact. “It was about making it home safe.”

Garret releases his seat belt and grins at me. “You’re kind of cute when you’re cranky.”

“That’s one of the oldest clichés in the book.” But that doesn’t prevent a tendril of warmth from unfurling in my chest. “Don’t you have any original material?”

“Oh, I’ll show you original.”

In one smooth motion, he pushes the driver’s seat all the way back, unsnaps my seat belt, and hauls me across the center console, rotating me so that when I land, I’m straddling his lap, facing him. Keeping me tucked between the steering wheel and his chest, Garret kisses me like a starving man who has just found himself in the middle of a five-course meal.

His mouth devours mine. His teeth nip, his lips suck, and his tongue thrusts. It’s like he can’t get enough of my taste.

In all of my other relationships, this is the point when things start to go south, when, instead of losing myself in the kiss, I find myself worrying about my technique, where I should put my hands, and just how far I should let the kiss progress.

But not this time.  I match him, beat for beat.

This time, I shut my mind down and lose myself in the magic that is Garret’s mouth.

His fingers roam up and down my back, stroking me through my T-shirt. Each brush of his hand ignites a mini-fire at the point of contact. In just a few minutes with Garret, I’ve felt more alive, more sensual, than I’ve ever felt.

For the first time, I’m starting to see just why so many people are obsessed with this sex stuff.

The world tips slightly, disorienting me for a moment before I realize he reclined the seat, giving me more room. My full weight rests squarely on his chest as I thread my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as I lose myself in a swirling vortex of sensations I’ve never come close to experiencing before.

The hard proof of his arousal presses against my pelvis. I slide one hand along his upper body, wedging it between them until my fingertips brush against his cock, stroking it through his pants.

He groans into my mouth, his hands clutching my body as he rocks his hips, grinding himself against my hand.

I grin against his mouth, loving that I’m not the only one losing control. “Like that?”

“Too much,” he responds, the words causing his lips to vibrate against mine in a very entertaining manner. “You’re driving me crazy.” An unyielding bulge, proof of his honesty, presses urgently against my belly.

Four words I never thought I’d hear any man say to me. “Good.” I nibble my way down the side of Garret’s neck.

He groans with pleasure. The sound eggs me on, making me bolder than I’ve ever been before. My hand sweeps down to press against his rapidly expanding cock, rubbing and massaging through the denim. His hips jerk, the unexpectedness of the movement nearly knocking me off my perch.

One of his big hands fists in my hair, anchoring my mouth to his as he grinds his hips against my palm.

He trails a string of kisses along my jaw and down my neck, nudging the loose collar aside so he can nibble on the sensitive skin where my neck and shoulder meet. His hands slide down my body, before they slip under my T-shirt and explore my bare back.

Driven by a stronger need than I’ve ever felt before, I grapple with the front of his jeans, trying to figure out how to force the button through the button hole so that I gain better access to his cock. I want to wrap my fingers around it, explore every single inch of it, see what it looks like right before it slides into my body.

Hot breath blows across the back of my neck, followed by a few drops of moisture. Before I can register the strangeness of that, Garret shouts.

“Ugh,” he yells, the sound startling me. “Get away from me.” He untangles his hands from my shirt and hair and waves at something behind me. Confused and feeling hurt, I scramble back over the console, tugging my T-shirt back into place as I do, and swing around to stare at Garret, unsure of what I could have possibly done to trigger such a violent reaction.

“You bastard,” he shouts. His hands find Harlan’s shoulder and he shoves my dog’s massive front end back to the back seat. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things on my own, thank you.”

That’s when I notice the long line of shiny liquid on the side of Garret’s face and the damp splotches on his own shirt. Dog drool. I clap a hand over my mouth.

Garret’s eyes lock onto mine. His expression is a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Your damn dog is becoming a menace. I’m starting to think that he’s the reason you’re having a hard time getting a guy to stick around.”

I giggle. I can’t help myself. “He hasn’t met many of them. Dan’s the first guy I had over at my place in the past year or so, and Harlan ignored him.”

I lean into the back seat and hug Harlan. He sighs happily. “I think he thought we were playing and wanted to take part.”

“Not in these games,” Garret says. He opens his door. “Let’s head upstairs.”

I unload Harlan from the backseat and follow Garret to the Dovetail’s entrance. It’s not easy. I have to lean on Harlan for support; my knees feel like they’re made from water and my body is humming in ways I’ve never experienced before.

Garret holds the door open for us before leading the way to the elevator bank. He pushes the call button before his gaze captures mine. “How ‘bout we head up to my place and pick up where we left off in the car, but skip the dog drool part?”

I grin at him while my tummy turns a happy summersault and my knees go even wobblier. “Sounds perfect.”