Catch Your Breath

by Shannyn Schroeder

  But he couldn’t take her anywhere else when they were both dripping wet. He turned the corner toward his house, giving up on the notion of extending the date. “You want to try this again some other day?”

  “Maybe,” she said teasingly. She looked down the block at his house. “Pull over.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!”

  He pulled over to the curb, but left the car in drive, scanning the road to figure out why he needed to pull over half a block from his house.

  She pushed the car into park and reached across him and twisted the knob to turn off the headlights.

  “What are you doing? It’s pouring outside and we’re still a half a block from where we need to be.”

  “Correction. We’re a half a block away from witnesses.” She leaned close to him. “Want to make out?”

  Did he? His brain short-circuited. He felt her breasts pressing against his arm. He hadn’t made out in a car since he’d been a teenager. Weren’t they a little old for this?

  But what were his other choices? Say good-bye to her now or invite her into his house?

  Her breath fluttered across his cheek, and she whispered in his ear, “Don’t think too long and hard about it, Jimmy. You’ll give me the idea that you don’t want to.”

  He turned and captured her mouth. Her lips were cold and her hair dripped on his cheek. She tasted sweet like the sugar he’d sucked off her finger at the carnival. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, meeting hers, swirling, loving the touch and texture of her.

  She pulled away from him and said, “This isn’t going to do. Come on.” She turned off the ignition and then stepped over the console and settled on the backseat. She patted the spot next to her. “I’m waiting.”

  No way he was climbing over; he’d never fit. He stepped out and opened the back door to reenter. She slid over to allow him to get comfortable and then she pounced on him.

  Her body lay on his as she pushed him against the door. Her cold fingers touched his face and then ran into his hair. Her lips were no longer freezing, but her hair continued to drip so much that it soaked his sweatshirt.

  “Do you want me to put the heat on?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of warming me up.”

  He refused to release the moan that would tell her exactly how much he wanted her. Instead, he took her mouth again, this time threading his fingers into her wet hair and angling her head to give him the access he desired.

  She spread her thighs and straddled his leg, rubbing against him from hip to chest. “Touch me,” she whispered.

  “I am.” But he knew what she wanted. He wasn’t going to fuck her in the back of his car.

  “Not like that.”

  She bit his lip to get his attention, as if she didn’t already control his every thought. She grabbed his hand and moved it under her shirt. Her skin was slick from the rain, but warm under the extra layer of his sweatshirt. He didn’t need any more coaxing.

  Pulling her closer, he swung her other leg over his so she fully straddled him. He straightened and forced her to lean back against the driver’s seat. He peeled the wet shirt away from her skin and followed it up with warm, wet kisses.

  The rain beat a rhythm against the roof of the car matching the one in his head. Moira tasted so good. He reached her bra and pushed it up, revealing the whitest skin he’d ever seen. The globes of her breasts were full and her nipples stood out demanding his attention. He rolled the right nipple between his thumb and finger while he sucked on the left.

  Moira’s hips began to wiggle against him, making him harder. She put her hands on his shoulders for balance as she pushed her pelvis against his and thrust her breasts up. “God, Jimmy, that’s so good.”

  He switched to suck on the other breast now and she grabbed the back of his head, keeping him close. He kissed and nibbled his way across her ribs. The fucking car was not big enough to accommodate everything he wanted to do.

  He paused, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. His breath came quickly. Moira, on the other hand, had no intention of taking a break. She began yanking at the back of his shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to feel your skin. I want you up against me.”

  “We can’t, Moira. We’re not going to fit.”

  “Sure we will. I’ll show you.” She flopped over the side and shimmied against the seat until her shoulders were against the opposite door. “Keep your knees bent and we can make this work.”

  He wanted to believe her, but if he fucked her in the back of his car, that’s all it would be. Plus, with his luck, Mrs. Corrigan, whose house they were parked in front of, would call and report them. He’d hate to get caught literally with his pants down.

  Once again, he’d taken too long to think, and Moira was already unbuttoning her shorts and sliding them over her hips. He twisted and grabbed her wrists to stop her.

  “Do not do this again, Jimmy.”

  Something in her voice said more than the words did. If he quit, he’d lose her. Didn’t she know how hard it was for him to walk away?

  She jerked her hand from his grasp. “Forget it,” she snapped, and her fingers began rebuttoning her shorts.

  Christ. He covered her hand again to stop her progress. “I want you. You know I want you.”

  “Funny way of showing it.”

  He looked over her head at the now fogged-up window. He couldn’t put into words what she did to him, why this would never be enough. Glancing back at her face, he saw the moonlight glint off her eyes. Anger had replaced lust, but she was still as sexy as ever.

  He tightened his grip on her hand, forcing it away from her pants and back up against the window. He crushed his mouth to hers and ground his hips against her to show how much he wanted her. The sweatshirt had dropped back over her chest when she laid down. He remedied that so he could run his mouth over her exposed skin.

  She didn’t attempt to free her wrist. Her breath quickened as he rained kisses down her neck and then back to her breasts. She rubbed herself against him, so he pinned her down. He wouldn’t let her rush him.

  God. She’d never been so hot and wet. Between the rain and the cramped car and the heat from Jimmy’s body pressed to her, she couldn’t find enough oxygen. At least that’s what she told herself. But she knew it was the effect his mouth had on her. And she wanted more. So much more, but he wouldn’t give her any control.

  The hand pinned above her head was losing circulation, but she didn’t care. With her free hand, she reached for the snap on his pants. Her fingers brushed the juncture where their bodies joined, and even with all the fabric between them, she felt her heat and his hardness. A deep groan rumbled from him.

  He pulled away from her and shifted her body, angling it so one of her feet planted on the floor and the other wrapped around his waist. He released her hand, and she thought for sure they were finally going to get naked enough to have sex, but Jimmy disappointed her again. He teased her mouth with his tongue to lull her and then captured both of her hands.

  Holding her hands above her head, he slid his free hand to her waist where her shorts were still open. He leaned back to stare into her eyes as he slid his hand into her pants.

  Fingertips grazed her hair, sending tingles throughout her body. He stroked her outer lips, teasing her. His eyes were devilish. She licked her lips and forced her body to lie still. He wanted control; she could give him that.

  Finally one long finger slid over her slit, skimming over her clit, the barest touch. Then back with a little more pressure. Her breath caught in her throat, so she opened her mouth to capture more air. She focused on Jimmy and saw a smirk cross his lips.

  His finger circled her clit and then rubbed it in a delicious swirling motion. She sighed a moan. One finger entered her, drawing out and then back in. As much as she tried to give Jimmy control of her body, her hips had their own idea and she thrust up to meet his hand. Tension coiled deep inside her,
and sparks of pleasure shot through her system as his palm collided with her body.

  Jimmy let go of her hands, but she kept them in the same place. He circled an arm around her waist and every bit of his attention focused on her pleasure, her needs, as a second finger joined the first, his slick movements drowning her. Quickened pace followed by torturous strokes. Her body had no idea what to expect. Hard then gentle. Fast then slow.

  She closed her eyes to absorb every movement, to focus on his hand, to try to predict, anticipate, participate. She couldn’t focus. Her brain was hazy and her nerves were strung so tight, she was afraid to move.

  Suddenly his long finger curled inside her, while his thumb pressed on her clit, and she was lost. He covered her mouth with his, probably to swallow her scream. Her muscles clamped down on his hand, and moisture flooded her panties and his palm. Her entire body shuddered, but Jimmy continued holding her, touching her, stroking her.

  Moira had no idea how long she lay there in Jimmy’s arms, panting and kissing him mindlessly. His hand was still in her shorts, as drenched as she was after the downpour. He’d reduced her to a relaxed puddle of nothing. She couldn’t move.

  Jimmy chuckled as if he could read her mind. He pulled his hand out and buttoned her shorts. With what little energy she had left, she pushed herself up. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to your car.”

  “But—”

  He popped the door open and exited before she could formulate a complete thought. He restarted the car and flipped the rearview mirror down to look at her splayed in his backseat. “That’s a good look on you.”

  “What look is that? Pissed off?” She tried for snarky, but failed miserably.

  He chuckled again. “Well sated.”

  “You could be too if you gave me a chance.”

  Pulling back into the street, he said, “I’m fine.”

  But the words sounded strangled. He wasn’t fine. He couldn’t be even if he’d only been half as horny as she’d been when they started. When he parked again, this time right in front of her car, she leaned over the seat and slid her hands down his chest. “We can continue this.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “Not tonight. I don’t have a bed.”

  “We were doing pretty good right here.”

  He responded with little more than a grunt. Like it had been her fault he didn’t get off. He wouldn’t let her do anything. That’s what she’d thought he wanted. Damn man needed to learn to use his words.

  The door beside her swung open and Jimmy held his hand out to help her up. Good thing he was such a gentleman; she wasn’t sure her legs would work. She stood and flexed her thigh muscles. Working. The rain had finally stopped, leaving cool air and sweet smells behind. He held her hand and walked her to her car.

  She ran a hand down his chest. “Why do you keep stopping? We both want this. So much.”

  “I know.”

  “Talk to me.”

  She watched his throat work as he swallowed. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, melting her knees again. She leaned against the car, glad for its support. His kiss was gentle and smooth and left her wanting more when he pulled away.

  “Good night, Moira. Call me when you get home.”

  She nodded, but wanted to prod him for answers. She found it hard to argue when he kept answering her with kisses instead of words. Once she was inside her car, he backed off and watched from the curb as she pulled away.

  Moira drove on autopilot, but when she was down the block and around the corner, the nagging sensation of questions unanswered hit her. Jimmy hadn’t answered her. All she wanted to know was why he wouldn’t fuck her. A pretty simple question.

  He wanted to, that much was clear. She knew he wasn’t a virgin, so he certainly wasn’t saving himself for marriage.

  That left her.

  Why did he refuse to have sex with her?

  That single question wormed its way into her brain and chomped away at all the remaining effects of a great orgasm. By the time she parked in front of her apartment, she was feeling sorry for herself, convinced Jimmy saw something innately wrong with her that made her unfuckable.

  She got ready for bed, knowing Jimmy expected her call, but she knew she couldn’t talk to him without sounding pitiful or accusatory, so she crawled into bed alone with her thoughts.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jimmy strode into his house and was greeted with blissful silence. Of course, the one time he assumed he wouldn’t find it, quiet surrounded him. He turned back to look at the street as if he could catch Moira, even though he’d watched her drive off.

  His dick throbbed in his jeans, rubbing uncomfortably against the denim. He went to the bathroom to take a shower. Setting his phone on the toilet tank in case Moira called, he stepped under the spray, seeking relief. The hot water poked at his sensitive skin. Images of Moira writhing against him, pale skin flush with pleasure, while moaning his name made his dick twitch. He stroked his cock, hearing Moira’s panting breath in his ears. He closed his eyes and smelled her musky scent.

  His breath quickened as his hand moved faster. He imagined sliding into Moira, hearing her sigh, feeling her wet warmth pull him closer. Bracing his forearm against the cold tile, he groaned his relief as his cock spurted.

  After catching his breath, he lathered up and washed. Moira’s quiet voice echoed in his head. Why do you keep stopping?

  He felt like an asshole now, after the fact, but in the moment, he knew it wasn’t right. Hell, yes, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her blind.

  And that was the problem. Moira wasn’t some chick to fuck. They were already more and he didn’t want to screw it up. Maybe she was the woman he’d been looking for, the mother of his children, in which case, she deserved better than to be treated like a weekend fling, fucked in the backseat of a car.

  But maybe she wasn’t his future wife. In which case, she was still Liam’s little sister and fucking her would cause a rift he might not be able to repair.

  The worst part was that he wasn’t sure which way he hoped it would go. He didn’t know what he wanted.

  He twisted the knobs to shut off the water. As usual, they squeaked and the old pipes rattled. The sound reminded him that he wanted more than this.

  He wanted a home that would hold his family comfortably, where the appliances worked without a kick, where he could relax. Ever since moving back in with his dad, he hadn’t been able to relax at all. Between steadily progressing on the job and carefully watching Dad’s diabetes and policing his brothers when necessary, he never had time to step back and breathe.

  Moira made him want to breathe.

  With a towel wrapped around his waist, he grabbed his phone. She should’ve been home by now, and she hadn’t called. He dialed and waited for her to answer and hoped he could tell her about the realization he’d had in the shower. The phone rang and went to voice mail.

  He couldn’t leave a message, so he disconnected. He weighed his options and decided to send a text to make sure she got home safely. Taking the phone with him to the living room and the couch, which had become his temporary bed, he sat in the dark and waited. Twenty more minutes passed before he got a response.

  I’m home. Already in bed. Good night.

  The text was short and gave him the information he needed, but not what he wanted. He expected Moira to say more; she always did. He should start a conversation, but didn’t know how, so he sat staring at the screen. Then it lit with another text.

  I had a great time tonight. Thank you.

  Maybe that was the only opening he’d get.

  He ran his fingers over the screen of his phone and thought about a response. He could say good night and leave it at that. Or he could answer her question as a text and not have to see her reaction or hear her laugh at him.

  I had a great time too.

  He waited, wanting to continue the conversation.

  Could’ve fooled me.

 
; It was one of the best first dates I’ve ever had.

  While waiting for Moira to answer, he dropped his towel, pulled on a pair of underwear, and settled on the couch for the night.

  You didn’t answer my question. That said plenty.

  Shit. She thought he didn’t want her or some other ridiculous imaginary reason. He lay against the pillow propped on the arm of the couch.

  I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Sounds like not saying anything was just as bad.

  Didn’t know . . . but now you do?

  Figured she’d pick up on that. One small word and she found it.

  Maybe. I want to take it slow. Figure out how we feel. I don’t want to screw things up between us.

  His finger hovered over the send button. Sharing his thoughts rarely worked well for him. He didn’t come from a family that talked about their feelings, but Moira did. Knowing that gave him a little advantage. Plus, she was an obvious talker. He hit send and then set the phone on his chest, as if the slight added weight would calm his heart.

  He waited for the vibration of an incoming text, but felt nothing. His eyelids drifted shut and he wondered what Moira was thinking. One good thing about her: he didn’t usually have to guess about what she thought because she said every freaking thing aloud.

  A sudden buzz jolted him awake. He must’ve dozed. He rubbed his eyes and stared at his phone.

  I know how I feel—horny.

  The tightness in his chest lifted. Flirtatious banter with Moira he could handle.