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Holy crap. Grady’s on top of me.
His entire body is stretched out over mine and we’re in position to do the horizontal tango. Like now. He’s breathing hard and looking around the parking lot. We’re shielded from view behind his cruiser and my car. We can’t see anything, and no one can see us.
I shift under him and rest my knees beside his hips. His arms are braced over me and I take a second to admire the view.
He looks down. Our lips are only a few inches apart. “That was your Gremlin backfiring, wasn’t it?”
He snorts and I grin.
I wiggle and shift until my hips are lined up with his. I’m pressed into the hot pavement, and pebbles are poking my back—but I don’t ever want to get up. And apparently, Grady doesn’t want to either. He drops his forearms onto the pavement and cages me in.
We press together, my breasts against his chest, my stomach against his rock-hard abdomen, my you know what against his zipper. Oh wow. I really like his zipper.
I arch into him.
“Ah, Gina?” His breath is coming out faster. There’s heat rolling off the thick ridge of him. He’s hard. Real hard. My eyes widen. His eyes narrow and his shoulders tense up.
“We should get up.” He starts to rise, but as he does his joystick rubs against me and I moan. He stills. His jaw clenches and his eyes flare. Then they go all unfocused and he ever so slowly rubs his length along me.
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