Taking her inside the Ferrari would have been a wet dream come to life, but it was too cramped, awkward, and impractical to give them both the pleasure they deserved. The seats were narrow, the top of the car low, and her elbows and knees were already jabbing him in uncomfortable places.
He grunted in pain as her hand connected with his rib cage, and he pushed her back to the passenger seat, ignoring the sounds of protest she made.
“Get out of the car,” he ordered, and slid out of the driver’s side himself. He rounded the front of the vehicle, not bothering to refasten his jeans when he planned to be buried inside her within minutes.
She was standing beside the open door, her hair tousled around her face, watching him approach with a touch of uncertainty. “What are you doing?”
“Improvising.” Grabbing her hand, he quickly tugged her toward the back of the car.
Without a soul around for miles, and the only illumination coming from the moon overhead and the interior of the car, the setting was as romantic as he could manage under the circumstances. Not that Nicole ever needed hearts and flowers, but what he was about to deliver was going to be a raw, carnal explosion of unrefined lust.
He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than fucking her on the back of a Ferrari. It was every guy’s fantasy, and about to become his reality.
Gripping his hands around her waist, he lifted her so that she was sitting on the trunk, her hands propped behind her to keep her upright. He pulled off her sandals so they didn’t scratch the paint, then shoved the hem of her dress to her hips and yanked her panties down her legs. Once they were removed, he tucked the scrap of material into the back pocket of his jeans, then braced her heels on the fender and pushed her thighs wide apart, exposing the swollen, weeping folds of her sex to his gaze.
He was so hungry for her, so impatient to feel her clasped tight around his shaft, that spending another second on finesse or foreplay wasn’t an option. Wrapping his fingers around his stiff, throbbing cock, he dragged the taut crown though her slick heat, then impaled her with a long, hard thrust that planted him balls-deep inside her.
She tossed her head back with a loud, breathless moan, and he shuddered as her inner muscles pulsed around his shaft. Bending her knees, she locked her legs around his waist and jerked her hips hard against his, seeking a more intense friction and deeper penetration.
His response was instinctive and immediate. He dropped his head to the curve of Nicole’s neck and pounded into her, giving her body exactly what it craved, and taking what he needed, too. She trembled with the driving impact of each frenzied stroke, while her hands slid around to the base of his spine and her fingernails dug into his backside in her own show of control and aggression.
He laved her throat with his tongue, then sank his teeth into a tender piece of flesh just below her ear that triggered her orgasm. She bucked wildly against him, her back arching, her hips straining as her mouth fell open on a long, low cry of extreme pleasure.
He watched her face as she came, savoring every moment of her surrender until his own climax slammed into him, forcing the air from his lungs as he ground himself into her, coming so hard it felt as though he’d given her a piece of his soul.
Nicole disconnected the call she’d just received on her cell phone, knowing for a fact that Nathan wasn’t going to be happy about her change of plans for the day. While he planned to attend the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the women’s shelter in the hope of meeting up with Sloane, she’d agreed to stay at the apartment and wait for him to return. Then they’d discuss their next step in rescuing Angela.
The unexpected call from her editor at The Las Vegas Commentary put a major crimp in their agenda.
Releasing a deep breath, she headed toward the master suite and into the adjoining bathroom, where Nathan had just finished taking his shower.
He stood in front of the large mirror above the dual sinks as he shaved, his hair damp and tousled around his head and wearing nothing more than the towel he’d wrapped low on his hips. Water droplets still clung to the smooth slope of his back, and she wondered how he’d react if she licked them off with her tongue.
Despite indulging in lazy morning sex with him only an hour ago, the sight of his half-naked body made her forget the real reason why she’d sought him out. She chewed on her bottom lip, and had to seriously resist the urge to untuck that small knot, let the towel drop to the floor, and have her way with him.
His gaze met hers in the reflection, his smile warm and intimate as he rinsed shaving cream off the razor before lifting it to the left side of his face and ridding himself of the stubble there.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said, even though his gruff voice was tinged with renewed desire, too. “I don’t have time to fool around again.”
“I know. I don’t have the time, either,” she said with a sigh, and leaned against the doorjamb. “It looks like I’m going to be joining you today at the women’s shelter.”
A frown creased his brows as he swiped the razor beneath the flow of water in the sink. “We agreed that you’d stay here while I go. I want to get Sloane alone so the two of us can talk. He was pretty open about wanting to swap you for one of his girls. I need to work that to our advantage.”
She heard the frustration in his tone, but this situation was out of her hands, and his. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t have a choice. My editor, Sharon, just called. The person originally scheduled to cover the ceremony came down with food poisoning. It’s so last-minute that everyone else has assignments or firm commitments, except me. I need quotes so I can write the article, and a photographer from the magazine will be with me, too, to get some pictures of Sloane while he’s cutting the ribbon.”
“Shit.” Done shaving, he wiped the excess foam from his jaw and neck with a small hand towel, then turned to face her. “Sloane can’t see you there as a reporter or our whole cover will be blown.”
It was difficult to argue with his logic, but her job was on the line, and she couldn’t afford to lose her only source of income. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think we can make it work.”
He looked skeptical as he passed by her into the bedroom, but she followed and explained. “Sloane has only seen me dressed and made up as a young teenage girl. I can go to the opposite extreme and make myself look completely different and older.”
“You look young no matter what you do,” he said as he dropped the towel, giving her a glimpse of his tight, muscular butt before he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs. “I don’t think it will work.”
She believed differently. It was a matter of hairstyle, makeup, and what she chose to wear. “I’ll stay at the back of the crowd and I won’t make eye contact,” she said, still trying to convince him as he finished stepping into a pair of dark brown slacks and shrugged into a long-sleeved shirt. “I know what’s at stake here. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
He looped a silk tie around his neck, the grim press of his lips clearly expressing his displeasure over the situation. “Like you said, I don’t have a choice. So make damn sure that Sloane won’t recognize you.”
“I will.” By the time she was done with her latest transformation, she was willing to bet Nathan wouldn’t be able to easily pick her out of the crowd, either.
Where in the hell was she?
Feeling tense, Nathan scanned the crowd gathered out in front of the beautiful modern building housing the new women’s shelter, anxious to find Nicole in the sea of faces so he could keep an eye on her until her job was done. He’d dropped her off at her apartment about an hour ago so she could change and drive her own car, and he hadn’t seen her since.