Lizzie felt as if her stomach had turned to molten goo. He wanted her? Here? In the back seat of the Ryde? Would she do it?
Was she really considering having sex with a stranger within inches of Paul, the driver? What on earth had come over her?
But she knew the answer to that. It was Maverick. Those eyes, and that perfectly chiseled chin. This was what had come over her. Part of her feared that she’d do whatever he asked, whenever he asked it. He squeezed her knee and she nodded.
What am I doing? the sane, buttoned-up librarian shouted in her head. She pushed the uptight warnings away. I’m doing what Madonna would do. For once in my life. Playing by the rules got me nowhere.
She swung her knee over his lap, so that one of her legs was over his, the other stretched out behind Paul’s seat. Maverick looked at her, his expression silently asking for consent. She nodded once, lips parting. Yes, this was what she wanted, as he moved his hand up her thigh. His strong, big hand. She wanted his hands on her. God, did she want this. The driver’s chair shielded their bodies, and Lizzie reached out, too, her hands on the front of his jumpsuit. She looked down, surprised to find that she wasn’t the only one affected by the close proximity. She felt him: thick…and hard.
Oh…my. This pilot was packing some serious heat.
She worked him through the heavy fabric, delighting in how he responded to her touch. His dark eyes never left her. Oh, he wanted her. She was thrilled by the want, by the need, she saw in his face. I’m doing this, she thought. I’m making you want. She felt heady by the power of it, by making this sexy hunk of a man yearn. He grew beneath the steady work of her fingers. Yes, she thought. Want me. Want this.
Somewhere far off, they heard ambulance sirens. It must’ve been an accident up ahead, Lizzie thought, as the light again changed ahead of them but no car moved. How long did they have? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Would Paul even notice them? He seemed to have his head buried in the screen of his phone.
A low, almost-inaudible growl escaped Maverick’s throat. She could feel his need beneath her hands. Loved that she made him feel like this and that nobody knew. She glanced at the other cars nearby, the other drivers and passengers oblivious to the fact that she was making this stranger rock-hard. She had all the power, and she loved it. She went for the zipper of his jumpsuit, but then he stopped her with one hand. He slowly shook his head and then he moved his hand further up her thigh.
Her hands froze then. Was she going to let him do the same to her? Was she going to let him touch her? She realized in that moment that she’d wanted this since the second she’d laid eyes on him in the back of this Ryde. Yes, she wanted his hands on her. She wanted to feel his touch.
He inched up beneath the hem of her dress. Yes, she thought. Oh, God, yes.
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