The Rebound Girl (Getting Physical) by Tamara Morgan

yours. A hairy chest gets me hot like you wouldn’t believe.”
    He let out a falsely longing sigh. “Me too.”
    The next move was a mystery to Matt. He’d done the unthinkable and stopped by Whitney’s place of work when it was clear she didn’t want to talk to him—and somehow managed to make it seem cool in the process. Asking her out on a real date would invariably lead to another shutdown, but he could hardly suggest they retire to his car to make out.
    “You want to go make out in your car?”
    He blinked, unsure if the words had actually been spoken or if he’d somehow willed them into being. “Um...what?”
    She cocked her head, studying the blue vehicle he’d had since he first started teaching. “It’s compact but workable, I think. I’ve never done it in a Focus before.”
    “You’re serious?”
    Whitney snaked a hand into his pants pocket, her palm warm where it pressed into his hip, fingers insistent as they plunged deeper. Matt was just about to protest in the shared names of public decency and self-preservation when she whipped her hand out, his keys dangling from her grip. “Are there any good parking spots around here?”
    She was serious.
    And even though Matt knew he should be strong, resist the urge, insist on dinner first...who was he kidding? He grabbed the keys.
    “I’ll drive.”
    * * *
    “What do you mean, no sex?” Whitney pulled away, breathing heavily, her head hitting the roof of the passenger side seat. “I have condoms in my purse. Extra large. I bought them just for you.”
    Matt placed his hands on both sides of her hips, stilling her movements where she straddled his lap. With her skirt hiked up to her waist and Matt’s cock in her hand, he was one or two quick maneuvers away from being inside her.
    She arched. And she wanted him inside her. The deep, empty aching gave an anticipatory clench. She wanted it so much she was damn near ready to beg for it.
    “I don’t mean no sex,” he corrected her, swallowing as she slowly stroked his cock, her grip tight against the hard length of him. “I mean no intercourse.”
    Her movements stilled. “Excuse me? Did you just use the word intercourse while your dick is in my hand and I’m so wet I could ride you for hours? Don’t you think we’ve passed the bounds of propriety at this point?”
    His laugh was soft, almost painful. “It’s just that riding a man is the sort of thing I’ve always considered kind of a big deal. You know—to be shared between two people who actually date.”
    Whitney scooted back even more. The windows had fogged up so much it was impossible to see out, but the car was nestled in a dark, secluded wood—the kind of dark, secluded wood her father had always told her to avoid with young men she didn’t know very well. Here she was, flouting paternal advice, pretty much ready to bend backward over the seat if it meant she could feel even the tip of Matt’s cock pressed against her, and she still couldn’t get fucked.
    “You’re serious about this? You’re punishing me because I won’t go on a date with you?”
    He brushed the hair from her face, his hand gently cupping her cheek. When his thumb drifted close enough, she swirled her tongue around it, pulling the digit in her mouth and sucking. That would teach him.
    He groaned. “I mean it, Whitney. You’re an incredible woman, and I’d like nothing more than to take things to the next level with you, but only if you’re willing to go with me. I’ll happily—gladly, diligently, many times over—give you all the satisfaction you want this way. But I’m not a toy. I have feelings. And this is where they draw the line.”
    “So you will do anything for the rebound, but you won’t do that,” she said flatly, conjuring Meatloaf.
    He laughed softly. “We can stop if you want.”
    Whitney studied him, searching for a crack in that immovable façade. A confident woman even when she wasn’t on top of a man, holding his most vital bits,