The Million Dollar Virgin

Chapter Nine - Stevie

Heat.

Dancing across her skin.

Heat.

Filling every corner of her mind.

Heat.

Blooming through her chest.

Heat.

It was everywhere. Building inside. She was shaking with need. Quivering with desire. And she knew what was going to happen if she continued to move. Maybe even if she did stop. The coil that had built up inside of her was too tightly wound already. She had no choice but to give in. With a cry she couldn't bite back – one that that didn't even sound like herself – Stevie did.

She said a small, silent prayer of thanks to the god of tinted windows and privacy glass – and a bigger one to the god of snug pants – then thrust against him, pressing her soaked underwear to the rough denim that covered his virility.

And the all-consuming heat exploded. Her world rocked, her insides lifting and smashing together in peaks of satisfaction. Again and again. Like a bomb met an earthquake and had a baby that became an orgasm.

She shuddered a final time, then leaned against him, spent. Limp.

And he'd barely touched her. She'd barely touched him.

Oh, god. Was she supposed to –

But as she pulled back to look at him, the partly-formed question didn't even come to fruition in her mind, let alone make it out of her mouth. His gaze was trained on her, the silver of his eyes dangerously polluted by his dilated pupils. His expression was almost indescribable. Full of want. Possessive. But somehow haunted, too.

Stevie swallowed, suddenly nervous.

He brought his hand up to her face and cupped her cheek, his look translating perfectly into that touch.

"This is the last one," he said darkly. "I promise."

"The last what?" Stevie's voice came out breathy.

He pulled her forward and closed his mouth overtop of hers. His tongue dance across her lips, then parted them. It wove together with her own, then tasted every corner of her mouth. Then he drew back slowly.

"The last kiss," he told her. "You wanted me to promise. I'm promising. I won't kiss you anymore, Stevie."

"But..." As soon as the one-word protest was out of her mouth, she wished she could take it back.

His face had already gone stiff, the only indication of emotion one twitch of his pierced brow. "What's my name?"

"I – "

Dammit.

She didn't actually know. She didn't even have something proper to call him.

Snug Pants?

Echo's brother?

Guy who just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm in the back of car just an hour after meeting him, without even undressing me?

But oh, god what if he had undressed me?

She couldn't pretend she hadn't wanted his hands on every aching inch of her skin. Inside her. Even thinking about it now was enough to make her body crave him again.

Her brain ordered itself to control her libido.

"Asshole," she said firmly.

He sighed. "That's what you're sticking with?"