Connor pushed the passenger side door open and beckoned to her. She ran across the dew-soaked grass and slid into the Cadillac, scooting over on the slippery leather seat to press herself against his warmth. Her feet were covered with clinging blades of grass.
His arms went around her. "What the hell do you think you're doing out here? You're half naked!" His voice was sharp with outrage.
"I wanted to show you my nightgown," she said. "I wanted to see if you liked it."
"Oh, Christ." He flung his head back against the seat. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"
"I just missed you, that's all," she said. "I was watching you from my bedroom window. My brave, noble knight in the shining Cadillac."
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it tenderly front and back, and then pressed it against the hard, thick length of his erection. "I like your nightgown, babe," he said. "How noble is that?"
She stroked him from base to tip. Her fingers tightened appreciatively around his thick shaft. "Oh, very noble, Connor. Very."
He covered her hand, held it still. "Don't, Erin. That's enough."
"Why not? Everyone's asleep. Open your jeans for me and I'll practice some of my bad girl skills. I've never done anything in a car before. Except for when you kissed me at the airport. That counts."
"I think it does, too. But still, no."
Her fingers tightened, rubbed Mm, insisting. "Don't you want—"
"You know damn well how much I want it, but I'm not comfortable letting down my guard in a car parked out on the street. I'm wide open when you do your sex goddess routine on me."
"So come up to my room." She pressed her lips against his hot face, rubbed her cheek against the rasp of glinting beard stubble. "We'll lock the doors, set the alarms. We'll be as safe as it's possible to be."
He clapped his hand over his eyes. "Yeah, right. That'd go over great with your mom. You saw what she did to that Jag."
"Don't be silly," she said. "You're no Billy Vega, and besides, she already likes you." She rushed over his snort of derision. "My bedroom is in the attic, on the opposite side of the stairs from Mom's bedroom. They're asleep, Connor. They're exhausted. No one will ever know."
"You are lethal, sweetheart," he whispered. "Like Eve in the garden. Come on, baby, just one little nibble. See how shiny the apple is? Yum, yum."
She nibbed against him so that her neckline gaped low. "The apple is juicy and sweet, Connor," she said. "I promise, you'll love it."
His hand slid up over her hip, her waist, and cupped her breast. She arched against him. "Come upstairs, and you can take this nightgown off me and make love to me, Connor. I never sneaked a boy into my childhood bedroom, ever. I need to make up for lost time."
"I'm not a boy, Erin," he said. "I'm a man. That makes it different. That makes it kinky."
She cradled his face and kissed the frown line between his brows. "And I'm a woman," she said quietly. "Which makes it OK."
He stared into her eyes for a long moment "Tell me what your bedroom looks like."
The odd question disoriented her. "Why don't you just come up and see for yourself?"
"Just tell me, so I can see if it's anything like my fantasies."
The longing in his voice silenced her, leaving her breathless. But only for a moment.
"Um… the wallpaper has a pattern of pink rosebuds," she began. "The bed is a maple four-poster, from my great-grandmother. There's a double wedding ring quilt in a million different shades of pink. Beneath it there's a dusty rose duvet. Dusty rose pillows with lace ruffles. There's a braided rag rug on the parquet floor, like the one in my apartment, but this one is in shades of peach and cream and pink. There's a washstand with a basin and pitcher. A maple dresser set and vanity, a matching armoire with beveled mirrors. Eyelet lace curtains. It's a very pretty room. I've always loved it."
His eyes glittered like a wolf's in the moonlight. "God, Erin. That just makes me want to explode."
She stifled a giggle. "Eyelet lace curtains turn you on?"
"No. You turn me on. You, in the middle of all that fluffy chick stuff. Lace and rosebuds. I could come in my pants just thinking about it."
"I have flower-scented candles," she offered. "And there's ajar of rose petal potpourri on the vanity. The whole room smells like roses."
"Any stuffed animals lying around?" he demanded. "Dolls? I'll feel like a sleaze if you've got dolls in there."
His suspicious tone made her giggle. "There are some antique dolls, but they don't bite. They just sit on the shelves and watch you."
"Yikes," he muttered. "That's creepy."
"I'll keep you too busy to notice them," she said. "I can even put on ankle socks, and do my hair in two braids, and suck on a striped lollipop, if you like. Just say the word."
"No thanks, Lolita," he said. "I like women, not little girls."
She put her arms around his neck and trailed soft, seductive kisses from his high, sharp cheekbone down to his rigid jaw. He was still resisting her, as hot and hard and eager as his body was.
Time to bring out the big guns.
"I'm naked underneath this nightgown," she whispered.
"Yeah, like I hadn't noticed," he said roughly. "I can see your nipples and your crotch right through that damn thing."
She tugged up the flounced skirt until it cleared her knees, then her thighs. She bunched it up under her breasts so that he could see her belly, her sex, the whorls of silky dark hair between her thighs. She opened her legs and lay her hand between them, brushing her fingertips against her labia. "Don't you want to touch me?"
"Goddamn it, Erin," he said hoarsely. "This isn't fair."
"I know," she whispered. "I can't help myself. I would never have dreamed of making a spectacle of myself to turn a man on before, but I'll do it for you. I want to drive you crazy." She slid her fingers into her cleft, tightened her thighs around the trembling ache of arousal.
He jerked her onto his lap. She almost sobbed in relief, and gave herself up to his strong hands, his ravenous mouth. His fingers slid inside her, and she whimpered and lifted her hips, desperate for the relief that only he could give. She had wanted to make him helpless with desire, but now she was the helpless one.
Connor's slow, seductive kisses made her lose all sense of gravity. His thrusting hand, his demanding mouth were her only points of reference. His fingers teased and caressed her until she splayed herself wide, shaking. Pushing herself against his hand in a silent demand for release. He withdrew his hand and set her down on the seat.
"OK. You win," he said. "You've got me right where you want me, but I've got you, too. Take me up to your room and fuck me, Erin."
She drew in a sobbing breath and got out of the car. Her legs shook so hard she could barely stand. "On the first flight of stairs, the fourth step creaks," she said breathlessly. "Be sure to skip it."
His eyes narrowed. "You realize, of course, that if your mother walks in on us, I will have a heart attack on the spot."
"There's a hook latch on the door," she told him. "Mom's not the type to kick in doors. Dad would have, but not Mom. She's the type to wait until later and then look at you with big, hurt eyes."
"Yeah, and then bash in my skull with a cast-iron skillet."
"Oh, don't be such a scaredy-cat," she chided.
They crept in the front door. Erin reset the house alarm, and beckoned him up the stairs. She listened for his footsteps, but she heard nothing, not even the brush of fabric against fabric. She turned, expecting to see him still at the foot of the stairs.
He was right behind her.
He smiled at her gasp of surprise and put his finger to his lips. He followed like a ghost, floating over the squeaky parquet floor to her attic bedroom. He closed and latched the door as she searched through a drawer for the matches.