Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

That thought both terrified and electrified.

I’d wanted to get her into bed before. Now, I could barely walk and talk like a normal man without losing all coherent thought and throwing her against a wall.

Fucking her wouldn’t just be pleasure. It would be life changing.

“Your place or mine?” Even my voice was off—gruff and crackly.

She sat stiff in the front seat of my car. She hadn’t tried to touch me; didn’t even look at me as we’d made our way back to the entrance of Tag Team Target and shed our bullseye and weapons.

The kid had taken one look at us and decided not to say anything about how fast our session had ended or the fact that Vesper had won two to nil.

He was smart.

Vesper’s pulse hammered in her neck as I stopped for a traffic light. The roar of the Mustang that I’d splashed out and bought last year deafened the impatient voice of my desire.

She took her time answering. In my head, doubts started swirling.

My shoulders rolled as another second ticked past. I answered for her:

I’m tired, maybe another night.

You know what? This was a mistake. No one should experience a kiss like that. It’s too dangerous.

I don’t want to see you again.

So my jaw dropped when her gaze met mine, her eyes smoky with lust. “Which is closer?”

I’d already thought of this. “Yours.”

“Mine it is.”

My foot pressed on the gas before my brain even told it to. Somehow, my cock had overridden my inner processor, deciding it would be faster to bypass my command and take charge instead.

We didn’t say another word as I drove safely (but as fast as the speed limit permitted) to her tiny apartment in one of the few duplexes in town. I would’ve much preferred to take her back to my place. Then again, it wasn’t the lap of luxury with ladders, paint buckets, and tools all over the place.

At least hers had functioning doors and locks.

No, hers is better.

For now.

The journey took forever, but finally I slammed into the guest parking space outside her building and unbuckled. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d grab her nape and yank her lips to mine.

Launching myself from the car, I let her unbuckle before opening the passenger door and made sure I kept a safe distance between us.

No matter how much air resided however, the crackle of awareness and spark of electricity built like a storm from her to me.

Slamming her door and pressing the central lock on my keys, we headed up the garden path, through the front security door, up the staircase to her apartment, and edged around each other until we were both safely ensconced in her home.

I took a few steps into her lounge while she threw the deadbolt and chain home.

The cat leapt from the couch and tore into the bedroom.

The kitchen light switched on then dimmed, casting the room in romantic shadow.

I turned to face her as she took a step toward me.

Uncertainty and nervousness tried to butt its way into the sexual mist we’d lived in since I found her hiding in that damn tent. But by some unspoken agreement, we didn’t let it change our direction.