Hot for Him. Sarah Mayberry
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checked his watch. It was just past ten.
“Want to head over to the nearest station now and get the ball rolling?” he suggested.
She nodded and fished in her pocket for her car keys.
“My car’s just around the corner,” he said. “Might as well go together.”
She clicked the button on her remote locking and the SUV behind her beeped to life.
“My ride’s here. Hop in,” she said.
Leandro frowned. “I’ll follow you over.”
She eyed him wryly. “Don’t tell me—you hate women drivers?” she asked.
“No, I hate this neighborhood. I figure my car will be safer outside the police station than in a dark street off the Strip,” he said.
She took a step closer, head cocked to one side.
“Liar. You can’t stand someone else having the last word. Like last night when you kissed me and walked away.”
He snorted his exasperation.
“You really think that’s why I kissed you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Why else? I kicked you in the shin, I won the award. You had to score somewhere. You figured walking away made you a winner.”
“Did I? Wouldn’t hanging around have made me an even bigger winner?” he said.
Her dark eyes glittered dangerously and she stepped closer again. She had her pointing finger extended and ready to jab at his chest again—but this time he was ready for her.
“You weren’t about to score, if that’s what you’re thinking. You were minutes away from a knee in your privates, buddy,” she said.
He caught her finger as it moved toward his chest, his hand enveloping her much smaller one.
“Hey,” she protested.
“Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to point?” he asked mockingly.
She tugged on her hand, trying to pull it from his grip.
“Give me my hand back,” she growled.
“If that’s what you want,” Leandro said, but not before he’d pulled her closer. Only a foot separated them as he placed her palm flat on his chest.
He held her eye, very aware of how hot her hand felt, even through the shirt he was wearing.
A beat of taut silence, then the side of her mouth quirked up into a quick smile.
“You think you’re so smart,” she said, then she fisted her hand into the fabric of his shirt and jerked his body toward hers.
Her other hand snaked up and around his neck, guiding his head down, and then his lips were on hers again. She tasted like coffee and chocolate and desire, and he invaded her mouth the way he wanted to invade her body. His hands found her back, sliding down to cup her great little butt and hauling her close. She gyrated her hips against his hard-on and made a needy sound in the back of her throat.
She was liquid fire, and he wanted to be inside her. Angling her head back, he deepened their kiss, wanting to own all of her. His right hand slid around her torso and up her rib cage until he found the swell of her breasts. They were soft yet firm, and he could feel how hard her nipples were through the fabric of her top.
She gasped and pressed herself closer as he gently pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger. He gave a groan of satisfaction as her hand slid between their bodies to find the aching length of his erection. She smoothed her palm flat along the length of him, again and again, and the one remaining functional brain cell in his head remembered that he’d seen a motel just a few minutes up the road. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but neither was dropping to the sidewalk on the very public Strip and taking her the way he wanted to right now.
“There’s a place up the road,” he said, breaking their kiss and staring down into her dark brown eyes. Her cheekbones were flushed and her mouth wet and swollen from his kisses. His boner throbbed. He wanted this woman like nothing on the planet right now.
She nodded her head. “Yes. It’s called the police station,” she said. Then her lips curled into a triumphant little smile as she stepped away from him.
Her gaze dropped to his crotch, and she raised an eyebrow.
“You might want to wait a few minutes before you walk into the station,” she said.
Then she opened her car door and slid behind the wheel of her expensive SUV.
He spread his hands wide as she lowered the driver’s window.
“Come on, Claudia—tit for tat? Aren’t we a little too old for these kind of games?” he said.
“Don’t be too long,” she said, giving him a cheeky finger wave goodbye.
He was still standing there looking—and feeling—like a dick when she pulled away from the curb and out into the traffic.
Running a hand through his hair, he let out a pent-up sigh of frustration and glanced down at the significant bulge in his jeans.
She was a minx, a conniving seductress, a master tactician.
And now he wanted her more than ever. Competitor be damned. Wife hunt be damned.
Grinning, he turned toward the street where his car was parked. He’d always enjoyed the thrill of the chase.
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