First Class Sin. Cara Lockwood

got any woman he wanted, so what made her think he’d ever want her? Part of her would always be that awkward beanpole. Despite the fact she’d long since developed, she still carried around the insecure fourteen-year-old inside her. The girl who’d been flat-chested until age seventeen.

      But just as she feared her kiss would be rejected, he softened and his lips parted for her. He was kissing her back! This amazing man, fit, handsome and clearly smart, was kissing her back. But of course he was. This was how men worked, she thought. They couldn’t resist the physical, right? Why would Law be any different? She deepened this kiss, her passion rising in her, her need growing. He tasted so very good. This was what it felt like to want to kiss a man. The hint of lime and something dark and inviting hit her as the kiss deepened, and their tongues met. It felt as if a thousand volts of electricity shot through her nerves from the tip of her head to the bottom of her toes, hot, insistent. The kiss turned savage, needy, as she ran her fingernails through the back of his hair, clutching at his thick, dark waves. Her fear and her panic transformed into want, the need for release. She pressed her body against him, knee itching upward as if she wanted to climb him. He grabbed her leg, pulling her in even closer so she could feel the need hardening in him.

      He wanted her as much as she wanted him. That thought thrilled her. Yes, she thought. Yes. She’d never imagined wanting someone so fiercely. Was it a reaction to Garrison? Was it her taking back her own body? Maybe. Because here she was, devouring this man. She’d never planned this, not here in the bathroom of a plane. She’d never in a million years believed she’d do something like this, but her reptile brain had taken over. She’d nearly died, nearly dropped thousands of feet to the hard earth below, and this connection, this defiant act of sex, was all about survival. Now she was all animal, all base instincts, all need. Every bit of force and ambition she usually poured into her work now came out as pure want, as she slammed Law against the bathroom door with a thump, her tongue finding his. She wanted this. She wanted him. Now.

      Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she barely knew the man. That made it all the better. She could do this, scratch this itch, fill this need, desperately knit a connection out of nothing. Her lips broke free of his.

      “I want you,” she murmured, voice low, hoarse. She couldn’t believe her own boldness. Had she said those words out loud? Yes, she had. And she’d say them again. “I want you here. Now.”

      “I want you, too,” he admitted, his pupils so big, they’d turned his blue eyes nearly black. She reached for his crotch, feeling the impressive swell of his want, proving that he spoke the truth. He groaned at her touch, leaning into her and claimed her mouth once more. The man could kiss.