Twin rivulets of water streamed from her wet hair and followed the path of her delicate clavicles down over the slight swell of her breasts to merge into a single stream just before disappearing into the shallow crevice of her cleavage and dampening the light cotton of her tank. His eyes widened as he watched her nipples bead in response to the cold trickle of water. She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra, again! And again that knowledge made his mouth go completely dry. For God’s sake, didn’t the damned woman own a bra?
Her hands went to her hips as she pushed the material of her overalls further down, her slight shimmy as she wriggled her way out of it, making her pert breasts bounce slightly. At last, the overalls dropped to the floor, and his eyes trekked down from her chest over the flat expanse of her stomach to her silky, naked legs as she stepped clear of the discarded pile of cloth. She was wearing another pair of tiny cut-off denim shorts that made her slender legs look impossibly long, which was crazy for a woman whose height barely scraped in past five foot. She turned and bent at the waist to pick up the discarded overalls and Gabe swallowed painfully as he watched the denim go taut over the curve of her butt. The material rode up just enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse of the pouty curve where thigh met arse.
“Christ Almighty!” he swore shakily. He was—for the umpteenth time that weekend—fully and painfully erect and had been since the moment she had pushed the damned overalls down over her slim shoulders. Shaken, he turned away from the cubicle and tried to compose himself. This was beyond ridiculous . . . He pushed a trembling hand through his hair and inhaled deeply as he tried to get himself under control again.
This for damned sure couldn’t be healthy. Surely a man couldn’t will away this many erections in such a short time without suffering severe physical and mental repercussions? He was just managing to get it under control when he felt her hand curling around his bicep. He nearly leapt out of his skin at the contact.
“I’m ready,” she said with a slight smile, and he blinked, confused.
Ready for what? No way in hell was she ready for what he wanted to do to her. She wasn’t ready for him to lift her onto the bonnet of that damned car she’d been under just minutes ago. She wasn’t ready for him to cover her tight body with his own and shove her thighs apart. And she sure as hell wasn’t ready for him to drag those tempting shorts down her thighs before thrusting his full length into her.
He peered down into her expectant face and found his eyes dropping down to her smiling mouth. Her lower lip had a generous curve to it that made it look as ripe and juicy as a peach . . . and damn it, remembering that it tasted as good as it looked wasn’t helping one bit.
“Hmmm?” Another small taste wouldn’t do any harm would it? He leaned toward her and her hand tightened around his bicep to give him a slight shake.
“Gabe!” He shook his head and the haze of lust that had obliterated his reason for the past few moments reluctantly dissipated.
“Are you okay?”
Was he? Who the hell knew anymore? He was riveted by her pretty mouth: bow-shaped and bee-stung, it would look more at home on a ’40s bombshell movie star than the skinny tomboy standing in front of him. He barely stifled a groan as he suddenly pictured those lips wrapped around his length and . . .
“I’m fine,” he gruffly assured the still-concerned Bobbi. “Sorry about that. I was thinking about a problem at the office.”
“Okay . . .” She sounded unconvinced but didn’t push it. “You ready to go?” He nodded and led her toward his car parked out front.
“Guys, keep an eye on the place, okay?” she yelled at the three men who were sitting at a picnic table in the park opposite the road. None of them bothered to look up when they heard her voice and the only acknowledgment she got was a lazy thumbs-up from Sean.
She headed to the driver’s side of the car and watched Gabe expectantly from across the gleaming red roof. He stifled a grin and merely raised an eyebrow at her. She seemed to recognize the no way in hell look he was giving her, and her shoulders slumped a bit.
“When are you going to let me drive this baby?” she asked, her hand lovingly trailing over the sleek curve of the Lamborghini’s bonnet. Gabe tried, very hard, not to remember that same hand running over his body with equal reverence. He mostly succeeded and tried to focus on her question.
“I don’t know. I think that the answer to your question lies in a place called Never Land, which is located just east of when hell freezes over and to the north of when pigs sprout wings.”
She didn’t respond to that and lowered herself into the comfortable black and red leather passenger seat with a blissful sigh. She took a moment to enjoy the new car smell and turned her cheek to nuzzle the luxurious leather headrest. The last time she had traveled in the car, she had been too hung over to pay the respectful homage she seemed to reserve for this automobile in particular. She made up for that now. Her hands traced every feature on the control panel between the seats and her fingers caressed their way across the dashboard until she was leaning over to stroke the smooth leather of the steering wheel. Gabe had made his way around the front of the car and was now staring at the sensual movements of her hands in fascination. Aware of the fact that his crotch—which was showing embarrassing signs of life again—was in her direct line of sight, he crouched with one arm resting on the roof of the car and the other on the head rest of the driver’s seat.
“Are you quite done groping my car?” he asked, cringing when the words emerged in a growl rather than in the casual tone he was aiming for. She sighed and settled back into her seat. While she fumbled with her seat belt, he lowered himself behind the wheel.