She sits back. He allows himself one last look at her, his eyes sliding over her hungrily. But he's not going to sate that hunger now. They're going to have to wait until later for that. For now, they will both just have to pretend that they're completely under control.
Once they leave, though—that's when all bets will be off.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
She doesn't want to wait any more than she has to. It's been burning in her gut since longer than she can even remember, and now that he's right there, now that he's in front of her and she's in the position to take what she wants again, she's not going to let it slip out of her grasp again.
His lips press against hers roughly. The skin around his mouth is baby-smooth—he must have shaved just before he went to meet her, because there's no stubble to press roughly into her. It would hurt, but it's exactly the sort of hurt she wants. Part of her is a little disappointed.
His hands reach around to grab her behind, pulling her up and into him, molding her body around his in a way that she hadn't wanted to forget about. Her breaths come in short bursts, the need threatening to overtake her senses entirely.
She tears away from the kiss, breathless, but it's only an instant before she's back at him, pressing her lips into his throat. Callahan's breathing is rough with need, a need that can only be matched by her own, can only be met by what they're about to do.
His hands move away from her ass, reaching up and pulling down the zip on her dress. Around them, the ranch is quiet. Nobody will, but the thought that someone could drive down the little country road and see them is burning in her mind, making her body coil up around itself.
"God, I need you," she says. Her voice reflects the need that she's feeling.
"Good," he growls. He pulls her back and pulls the dress down. It falls into the grass at their feet. He presses her back against the truck. She leans over it a little, the shape of the hood pressing an arch into her back, presenting her breasts to his inspection.
She can feel the vulnerability inside her. It threatens to overwhelm at any moment, threatens to force her to lose what little bit of control she still retains. And the way that his eyes rake over her naked body—possessive and masculine and filled with need—only serves to stoke that fire.
She leans back, her arms wide and pressed into the hood of the truck, still a little warm against the skin of her back. He can take whatever he wants, and they both know it. Now she's telling him, with everything less than words. She's his.
His head dips to take a dark, pointed nipple between his lips. The feeling of warmth, of his rough lips pulling at the sensitive bud sends signals through her body that only serve to make sure that she continues down the path that she's already on.
Her body presses up into him, her arms wrapping around his head and trying to get him to take her deeper into his mouth, to spread that warmth. His tongue flicks across the nipple. Again. Her body is starting to tense, preparing early for an orgasm that she knows isn't coming yet. She'll need a little more, but she knows it will come. In time.
His hands explore her skin. Gone is the quick, forceful sex that they'd had the first time. He lets the need burn slow, takes his time in getting to know her flesh.
His hands trace the silhouette of her hips, cupping the roundness of her ass and pulling it away from the steel bumper. He squeezes, eliciting a soft yelp that she can't quite keep silent any longer. He can't quite keep the smile off his face as he sees it.
Callahan's teeth gleam in the darkness as he smiles. Those teeth take her hard, sensitive nipple between them and pinch, a high-octane mix of pain and pleasure sending signals to every nerve center in her brain.
Her body bucks against his, trying to get the pleasure that she knows isn't there to take yet. He presses a knee between her thighs, a small concession to her need, a little promise that she knows he'll have no difficulty in fulfilling when the time comes.
Her hips rock against him, the rough fabric of his trousers giving her a tiny taste of relief. And then he's spreading her legs a little wider. His hand dips between them, exploring the skin below her belly-button. She's never thought of it as sensitive until now, but every tiny touch, every time that his skin brushes against hers, it leaves a trail of burning memory that promises and delivers all by itself.
His fingers dip deeper, caressing the downy-soft hair above her core. He knows what he wants, and he knows exactly what she wants, too. Her hips press up into his hand and he grows still, pressing her hips back with his palm.
"Now, what made you go and do that?" he says. His voice is low and sexual, and speaks to the teasing that's going to drive her nuts.
"I'm sorry," she says. She's played this game before. It's a game she's always liked. From both sides.
"You need to stay still, girlie. It's not your turn yet. It's my turn."
His fingers find the place where her legs meet. The folds part easily, readily, for him and his probing fingers. Her clit sends alarm bells ringing through her entire body as she feels him circle around it, as she feels the vaguest threat that he might press against the hardened nub.
Then he's passed, the very tips of his fingers spreading her the tiniest possible amount, hinting and tantalizing without ever going quite far enough to give her what she needs.
Her hips squirm again, trying to get a little more. She forces them still as quickly as possible, but it won't happen. She can't make it happen. And then he's pulling away.
"What did I say about moving, little darlin'?"
She whimpers. The words, so immediately ready, just won't come out. "I didn't mean to—"
"Now, what am I going to do with you? Disobedient… needy… oh, you can't help yourself, can you, little thing?"
"No," she says. She looks up in his eyes, pleading with him. Please, don't stop. Please. Just a little more. Just a little further, and—