“Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.”

“You’re quoting Einstein. Miniorgasm happening.” I kiss him, twining our tongues as my hands dig into his scalp.

“Just trying to keep up with you. Lie across me in my lap, and maybe I can watch the road.”

After maneuvering under his arms, I position my back on his door, parting my legs to give him room to shift. It’s a tight fit and not easy—heck, the car itself can barely hold his powerful frame. His chest presses into my right side, and I start undoing his buttons, easing my hand inside to touch his hot skin. Looking down at me, he bites his lip, his free hand tracing my neck, the wing of my clavicle, down to my legs, where he toys with the waistband of my panties, teasing.

“How much traffic is on this road?”

“Barn,” I mumble as I tug his shirt out of the front of his pants. “Speed up.”

“Kiss me,” he demands.

I take his jaw and mesh my mouth with his, liquid fire searing me as we get lost in each other. He’s possessive and hard, then soft and slow and languid, licking at every secret place in my mouth, tasting the roof of my mouth, the bottom, his teeth nipping.

“Beautiful girl.”

My insides quake, my legs scissoring as he lets me go to make the turn onto the road to the barn. He speeds to the side of the building, and I ease back to my seat. He parks, and before I can blink, the ignition is off, and he’s out of the car and at my door. He sweeps me up in his arms, eyes burning with lust, and heads to the barn.

“On top of the car.” I glance back at Red.

In two seconds he’s set me down in front of the vehicle and is tearing off his jacket and spreading it out on the hood. Moving fast, he sets me on the car as he stands between my legs, takes my face, and kisses me, rough and hard and deep. Deft fingers find the hem of my dress, and it disappears somewhere behind me. His eyes burn as he takes me in, growly sounds coming from his throat. “Giselle, you are . . .” His fingers caress from my cheek down to the center of my black bra to my waist. “Perfect.”

He removes my bra and throws it over his head, his mouth tugging at my nipple. He cups the weight and suckles one, then the other. My hands slide into his hair, running the mink strands through my fingers, arching my chest into his. I yank on his shirt, and he unbuttons it and shakes it off viciously, his lips attached to mine. His thumbs graze over my sensitized breasts, plucking the erect nipples. I gasp, need ratcheting over my body.

His mouth works down, brushing over my throat, his scruff mingling with the pleasure. His carnal, demanding lips cling to mine as he works my panties down with one hand. I don’t know where they go. I don’t know where anything is, just his lips and hands and tongue.

He bends to his haunches, eases me down, parts my thighs, and kisses me there, and my breath escapes in a whimper, spirals of lust curling.

“Devon . . .”

He consumes me like I’m a rich, dark chocolate and he’s a connoisseur, his tongue skating over my clit.

“Everything about you, all your secrets . . . right here . . . on the tip of my tongue,” he says gruffly, meeting my eyes, the effect of the intensity in his gaze enough to cause a quake inside me, a true miniorgasm rolling over me. But it’s not enough, and I chase it, my heels digging into the bumper. His gaze goes molten as he slides a finger inside me, lazy and slow. “Has anyone ever gone down on you?”

“No.”

“I’m the first,” he purrs. “And I’m writing my name on you. Devon . . .” More tantalizing licks. “Kennedy . . . now that’s a long name . . .” He sucks the center of me in his mouth and nibbles. “Walsh.” He pauses to breathe me in, his fingers tugging on my curls as his palm presses on my mound. “I want you so slow, savor every little place, no rush, until you come hard and long.” His fingers rub at the top of my entrance, teasing, in and out, never enough.

I lose my sense of perception, how much time is passing, the breeze in the trees, the hardness of the car, the silky feel of his jacket as pleasure buzzes and builds and sharpens until it rushes at me and pulls me under. I call out his name, a tsunami feathering down my spine to my core. My body clenches around him, my entire body undulating as I ride the wave.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” He stares deep into my eyes, and my heart flip-flops. It feels like a deeper question, layered with more meaning, nuanced with significance.

My reply is smothered as I kiss him, my hands already working the buckle on his belt, the button on his slacks, the zipper. I can’t believe he isn’t naked yet. With trembling fingers I shove his pants and tight underwear down, his length jutting out at me, long, hard, and thick. The rose-gold crown has a bead of come, and I brush my finger over it, unsure if this is going to work. It’s supposed to; that’s how we were designed, but . . .

“Tell me.” He stops my hand, his self-control vacillating when his lashes flutter.

“Yes, yes, yes, I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. Please.” My eyes lock with his. “Make me yours.”

“Mine,” he breathes, a shudder racking his body as he cups my face. “Giselle . . . fuck . . .” He groans as I grasp his hip and map out the topography of his cock. My eyes can’t stop devouring all of him—the disheveled hair, the jerking muscles of his abdomen, the tip of him, mushroom shaped and veiny.

“I don’t have a condom,” he rasps out.

“I’m on the pill. I’m assuming you get tested regularly for physicals.”

“I do. You are? Why?”

“I’ve had irregular periods for years, painful . . .” I stop, not wanting to explain my menstrual cycle now.

“I’ve never had sex without condoms, but it’s you, baby, it’s you, and I’ll do whatever you want.” A laugh comes from him. “You make me say crazy shit.” His lips graze my neck, and I hold his head there.

“We can wait,” he drags out. “We can drive back to the penthouse and do this in my bed.”

My leg hooks around his hip, pulling him toward me. “Just put the tip in.”

“Like we’re in high school, huh?”

A slow smile curls my lips. “I’ve fantasized about the moment when the guy slides it in, the first bite of pain, then bliss—or I think. You’re big.”

“It will fit.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to video.”

“We are not making a sex tape.”

“Yet.” My hands curl around his shoulders. “I do want to watch it go in.”

“You are insane.”

“Mildly. Runs in the family.”

“I don’t know what this is,” he says. “I don’t know where it’s gonna end up.”

Regardless of his obvious hesitation, this is right, and I want it all, the ugly with the good. He said he wouldn’t walk away, and I believe him. “We’ll figure it out together.” I flick my tongue over his nipple, making him shudder.

“Come here,” he murmurs, adjusting my legs, bending my knees so that I’m halfway sitting up, my palms pressed to the hood of the car. He scoots the jacket closer to him. He steps back and stares, his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and low. I feel sexy and beautiful, bare and ready for him.