Baily's Irish Dream: Baily's Irish Dream / Czech Mate. Stephanie Doyle

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      Not in the mood to be toyed with, Daniel simply nodded.

      “You mean, the car that isn’t fit to drive to the market? The car that so far has taken me across this county once already? The car that has driven over mountains, never not started when I really needed it to, and has already taken us through two states, unlike a certain Mercedes that I know of? That car? Huh?”

      Daniel watched her eyes flare and her red curls bounce around her head in absolute fury. She was beautiful at rest. She was breathtaking on fire. A fist of desire slammed him hard in his lower gut. Normally, Daniel didn’t consider himself the wildly romantic passionate sort of man. When the need warranted, he could be creative in bed, but for the most part he’d never felt comfortable enough with a woman to completely lose control when having sex. More often than not he watched himself, as if from above, giving his body directions to follow.

      Do this now. Do that now. Okay it’s your turn. Take your pleasure then let’s get out of here. We’ve got an early meeting in the morning.

      Baily, however, was someone who would demand total attention. She was someone you slammed against a dirty wall behind a greasy service station, ripped her clothes to shreds, and took hard and long standing until she was screaming with pleasure and raking her nails deep into your buttocks. She was someone you made love to all night long, waking her up time and time again to sink your body deep within hers because at that moment, when she was lying under you, taking you deep into her womb, she was truly yours.

      He had to have her. It really wasn’t an option anymore. In his mind he’d crossed some invisible threshold and now he knew that he couldn’t leave this woman until she screamed out his name in mindless earth-shattering pleasure. Just once. Maybe twice.