Something to Talk About by Dakota Cassidy Page B

softer, her shoulders relaxing in a downward slope. Though her eyes strayed everywhere but his face. “Look at me, Em.” He tried to keep the demand soft, but it was using up what little self-control he had.
    Em was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Whatever was holding her back, it wasn’t lack of sparks. He might have been out of the game for a while, but he knew chemistry. “I’m going to kiss you. Question is, do I have your permission or are you going to pretend you don’t really want me to? Because I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Your move,” he coaxed with a grin.
    Her lashes lowered to brush her cheeks, thick and full. They were like the fourth or fifth thing on his list of what he liked about her. Right behind the demure but sexy as hell clothes she wore, and her waist. He liked that, too. The way it pinched sharply inward before it sloped into the curve of her hip—hips that swished with an enticing rhythm—and made him smile.
    “So, that kiss?”
    Jax didn’t wait long after Em gave a slight nod. Pulling her head to his, he inhaled her sigh, breathed in her scent, traced the outline of her lips with his tongue before putting his mouth on hers.
    He didn’t move. He just wanted to feel them against his own. Memorize them, taste them. Hot rushes of blood coursed through his veins when Em let him take the lead with a tremble and the surrender of her mouth.
    Just this connection, this contact, and Jax was on fire. He had to hold back, control the need he’d been fighting with all night or he was going to scare her off.
    But when he felt Em melt into him, reach for more of him by scrunching either side of his jacket in her fists, sigh again into his mouth, that damn predatory streak welled up in his chest. Made him grip the steering wheel with one hand to keep himself in check.
    He slanted his mouth over hers, letting his tongue glide into the heat held behind the object of his fixation.
    When Em’s fingers clenched his hair, Jax gave up on restraint with a growl and instead focused on getting her closer. His fingers went to the armrest between them, lifting it up, grunting his pleasure when Em helped him, her fingers gripping his forearm.
    Then he was pulling her willing body to his, adjusting the setting on his seat, positioning her to straddle his lap.
    Em’s arms went around his neck, her lips never leaving his, her soft tongue sliding along his in hot passes designed to make him harder than a rock. With leverage on her side, she wedged herself into his lap, her long legs draping on either side of his hips.
    His hands found the small of her back through her winter sweater with the ruffles that framed her face, gliding over the swell of her hip, all the while, his hard-on driving at the seam of his jeans.
    “We’re in a car,” she husked out between hungry pulls on his lips.
    He silenced her with more hungry drawing, suckling the soft flesh of her bottom lip until she let one of those heady moans escape from her throat, gritty and breathless.
    Em pulled away enough to allow words to flow more freely from her mouth. “A car...”
    He knew this wasn’t Emmaline’s bag—getting raunchy in a car in someone’s driveway. Just by observing her all this week, he knew.
    Emmaline Amos was a lady. At all costs, the perception of her reputation should remain sterling. And he was fucking that all up with his dirty thoughts. He saw the war she was having in her mind with her body. It was in the way she tried to stop kissing him by pulling back, filling the void between their lips with words, only to seek his mouth again.
    He brushed her crooked red beret away from her eyebrow. “It’s a Jeep. But that’s just me being picky.”
    Again, she dipped her head back down, her liquid eyes glazed with moonlight and doubt. “This is crazy.” More protests, more driving him insane with the press of her breasts against his chest, enhancing that insanity when she inhaled with a ragged