Out of Control. Julie Miller

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      Back home in Dahlia, she would have frozen up at the wanton intimacy of their position. She would have second-guessed. She never could have relaxed enough, felt safe enough, to lose her inhibitions like this. She would have failed to know and give pleasure.

      But this wasn’t Dahlia, she reasoned. She wasn’t Alex Morgan, pariah of gossip turned extreme tomboy. Tonight, she was this man’s mystery woman. And she was all woman—all whole, sexually confident woman.

      “What are you waiting for?” she gasped into the darkness. And then she tunneled her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth against her.

      Alex’s head fell back and she cried out almost instantaneously as he ran his tongue between her folds and thrust inside her. Wave after wave of sensation rolled down to her core and blossomed back like shock waves through her body. He gently bit down against the hard nub, stroked his thumb along her aching crevice, kissed her and licked her and made her come again and again with just his mouth. Alex bucked and moaned and clutched him against her, her body weeping at the newfound experience of having a man bring her to orgasm.

      When he was done, when she was spent, he pulled away, crawling up over her body to reclaim her mouth in a full, deep kiss. She inhaled her own release on his skin, tasted it on her tongue. Alex Morgan had never had a night like this. “You’re good.”

      She felt him smile against her lips. “I kind of got that idea. Thanks.”

      But she wasn’t done. She pushed against his chest. “Your turn.”

      He gave her one last kiss and pulled away. “You’re sure?”

      “You’ll have to arrest me to stop me.”

      He pulled off his badge and gun and set them on the dashboard.

      While she hurriedly redressed, he gingerly dropped one foot to the floor and stretched his other leg out behind her, opening himself up just as she’d offered herself to him. His deep voice coaxed her across the seat. “However you want.”

      Alex curled her legs beneath her and scooted closer. The jerk of his leg when she braced her hand against his knee told her he might be as primed for this forbidden encounter as she’d been. “Do you have protection?”

      “Shit.” She’d take that as a no.

      But not as a never mind. Alex slid her hand along his thigh, crawling closer, massaging away any noble instinct to stop her wandering hands. His shoulders were broad enough, near enough, to blot out any light from her vision. But her sense of touch worked just fine. She palmed him through his jeans and she heard the creak of leather where he squeezed the seat back in his fist.

      Interesting. Alex’s pulse kicked up a notch in anticipation. Maybe there were other ways to feel the strength of her femininity that had nothing to do with her own release. She rubbed her palm down the length of his zipper and traced the seam of denim that ran between his legs. He groaned. “There are ways, right? Safe ones?” she asked.

      His deep breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Don’t you know?”

      All the innuendoes over the years didn’t mean she knew what she was doing. But she was a quick study when given the chance. She dragged her hand up, tracing the same path. “I’m learning.”

      His shoulders rose and fell in the shadows. “You weren’t a virgin. Were you?”

      Unfortunately, no. That honor had been stolen from her long ago, trampled on, laughed away as meaningless.

      Tonight had meaning. Alex pressed her fingers to his lips, easing his distress as well as her own. “Shh. Enough about me. Talk me through this.”

      “You are one serious package of trouble, aren’t you.” He made it sound like a good kind of trouble. An irresistible kind of trouble. He pulled her fingers from his lips and guided her hand down to join the other one. For several moments, he simply cupped her hands over the bulge in his jeans and rocked against her. Her breathing quickened along with his. And then he gave her a command. “Unzip me. Careful. That’s it.”

      The trembling of her fingers lessened with each hint of praise or pleasure. She unhooked his belt buckle, slid the zipper gently downward. He shifted slightly to help her ease his jeans off his hips. She smiled at the bright white cotton that poked through the opening they’d created.

      Plain white cotton? A kindred spirit. The detective was the right man for the job tonight.

      “Pull it out.” She did as he asked, stroking his length through the tight tent of cotton, then reaching inside to capture the hot, pulsing hardness of him in her hand. “Oh, yeah.” His hand tightened around her wrist, holding her still while he thrust inside her grip. The moisture at the tip caught in her palm and smoothed the friction between them. With a gasp that sounded like a tight breath through clenched teeth, he released her. “You do it. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

      While Alex slid her hand from tip to base and back again, he framed her face with his hands, sifting his fingers into her hair, holding her as tenderly as he’d been firm with her a moment ago. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “I can’t seem to get enough of kissing you.”

      And then he seized her mouth with the same vigor that Alex used on him. She braced her hand against his shoulder and worked him as his tongue thrust into her mouth. The harder he kissed, the firmer her touch. He went deeper; she stroked harder. He gentled the brush of his lips across hers; she lightly teased the ridge of skin beneath him.

      He was pulsing, throbbing, driving into her grip, mimicking the same rhythm with his tongue in her mouth. As she continued to caress his silken length, something deep inside Alex began to pulse in response. He moaned into her mouth, reached down and wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing tightly as he came up off the seat and pushed himself one last, long time into her hand.

      The power of his release triggered an answering satisfaction in her own body and Alex collapsed against him. For several long, timeless minutes, he wrapped his arms around her and she burrowed against his chest, marveling at the warmth, the exhaustion, the contentment she felt.

      No encounter had ever been like this for her. She felt safe. Satisfied. Serenely pleased with herself and grateful to this man. Her night in Nashville had turned out to be a success, after all.

      As she became aware of the soft, patternless lines he was tracing against her back, Alex noticed the time on his dashboard clock: 2:14 a.m. Her brother would be worried about her by now, her father up, pacing the living room, trying to decide whether to call the sheriff or get into his own car and drive into Nashville to search for her.

      And with those concerns, the first frissons of worry marred her contentment.

      “Restless?” the detective asked.

      Alex pushed away from the tempting haven of his chest and slid back to her side of the seat. She pulled his jacket more tightly around her, but couldn’t seem to ward off the chill of reality that had wormed its way into her thoughts. “I’m just remembering that I’m stranded, that I don’t have any way to get home or even call there.”

      He sat up straight, pulling up his jeans and tucking everything back into place. He reached for his gun and badge. “I’ll take you.”

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