His mouth covered her clit, and he sucked, wrapping his arm across her stomach and holding her steady as she convulsed against him. The incredible tension she’d been carrying around for so long inside her broke in waves and waves of ecstasy. She didn’t care if anyone outside heard her keening cry, or his answering groan that vibrated against her pu**y. Her thigh muscles locked, she shuddered, she writhed, she fell back on the seat and contemplated passing out as he wrung the last vestiges of her orgasm from her.

Gently, he relinquished his suction on her, giving her several long, slow licks to bring her down. His fingers pulled out, and he lowered his kisses to her opening, tasting the remnants of her pleasure.

Macy wanted to stretch and purr like a cat. She couldn’t stop undulating against him, and dismay set in as she realized she wasn’t done yet. He’d only taken the edge off. She needed more. Needed him inside her, filling her.

He lifted his head, and she grimaced at the emptiness he left behind. Little aftershocks skittered under her skin, making her shiver. But he was trying to get up, and she had to move to let him. She backed into the corner of the seat, and he slid onto his, blowing out a breath and rolling his head on his shoulders.

His expression was unreadable, but the firm set of his jawline hinted at the same level of pressure that had been holding her captive until he set her free. He unzipped and stripped out of his hooded sweatshirt, but he wasn’t moving to unfasten his pants—didn’t he expect to get his after giving her hers? Apparently not. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she leaned down and began the slightly mortifying task of trying to locate her panties on the floor.

“Missing these?” he asked, and she glanced up to see the scrap of silk dangling from his index finger.

“Um, yeah.” When she tugged them, he hooked his finger, a slight smile turning up one corner of his mouth. Macy giggled when he didn’t give them up without a brief tug-of-war, but finally she claimed them.

He’d made her feel so good. It had been exactly what she needed.

“You know, I don’t have to put these back on yet.” She reached between his legs and ran her hand over the bulging ridge in his jeans. He had to be hurting. It looked like pain that crossed his face when she touched him.

But he seriously must not have meant to go any further. He caught her wrist and pulled her until she was straddling him. His hand smoothed down the outside of her right thigh. “Thank you for wearing a skirt tonight. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Macy shivered as his fingers’ journey back up her leg took them under the hem. He must’ve thought she was cold; he grabbed his discarded hoodie and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pushed her arms through the sleeves, inhaling deeply as his scent engulfed her.

“Now that that’s out of the way, talk to me. What have you been doing since I left?”

“Nothing.” She snuggled down onto his chest.

“No other guy’s been in the picture?”

She grinned into his neck at the surliness that entered his tone at that question. “Jealous?”

“Not when I was the one with my mouth on your pu**y two minutes ago, no.”

Macy didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the way he talked to her. If it had been anyone else, she’d have been appalled, but with him…she loved it. Part of it was knowing he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought, not even her. She would love to be that way. It just wasn’t in her nature.

“You seem different,” he said.

Now that gave her pause and a little surge of unease. She leaned back to look at him. “How so?”

He trailed a finger down her cheek. His gaze held hers, seeing way too much. “Are you sad?”

“I—” What did she say to that? In a scant few minutes, he’d pinpointed something she’d been hiding from everyone for months. Something her best friends hadn’t even picked up on…any more than usual, at least. But she couldn’t confirm his suspicions. He might think it had something to do with him. “No.”

That too-knowing gaze narrowed. “Then are you always a mopey drunk? Because that would suck.”

She scoffed. “I’m not drunk. Not that drunk. And I don’t know why you think I’m…mopey.”

He shrugged. “Well, let’s recap. I seem to remember us hooking up in this very backseat in the parking lot of Dermamania. I remember us talking almost until the sun came up, laughing our asses off at stupid shit. You amazed me with how funny you were. I wasn’t expecting that. The ‘killjoy’ thing was a private joke because we both knew I saw a different side of you than anyone else. And then suddenly, you pulled a disappearing act. Then I had to cut out of town. From what I’ve seen of you tonight, I wonder if you’ve laughed much since then.”

As he spoke, she’d busied herself by absently tracing the collar of his T-shirt, not meeting his eyes. “You know what’s crazy? Despite all that, I don’t even know your real name.”

He sighed at her diversion. “Seth.”

“Seth,” she echoed, needing to feel it on her tongue. “That’s nice. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

He suddenly became very interested in picking at something invisible on her shirt. “You never asked.”

Her bottom lip trembled. Great, so he thought she was a stuck-up bitch on top of a depressed drunk. “But I did wonder. What’s your last name?”

“Warren. Why?” He smirked. “Gonna run a background check on me? Need my date of birth too?”

His question gave her a split second of panic. She really didn’t know much about this guy. Her brain ran through its usual gamut of worst-case scenario. Does he have a record? Is it bad? What if he’s done time or something? Some of those tattoos look kind of suspect—

He sat back, exasperated. “Jesus, Macy. No, I’m not a convicted felon.”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

He put a hand pensively to his chin. “Except for that one bank robbery that went terribly awry…”

“Quit making fun of me.”

“Hey, it’s cool. I didn’t mean anything. You okay?”

She only nodded. Considering how tiny her voice had just sounded, it would be nonexistent now, so she didn’t even try to use it. He must have noticed her distress, because he reached up and rubbed her shoulder.

Macy couldn’t help it; her eyes closed, and she knew he didn’t miss her intake of breath. All at once, she wished she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She’d been denied it even before. Bare flesh to bare flesh…his hard, hot and intricately marked, hers soft and yielding and…

The images swirling through her mind had her temperature rising again. He smelled unbelievably good. Something darkly sweet and almost lemony. She didn’t want to talk; she just wanted to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in, knowing he tasted as delicious as he smelled.

“So what’s the story?” he asked.

The question pulled her back to reality hard and fast, and the truth came tumbling from her mouth before her brain gave it permission. “I don’t belong.”

She didn’t have to see his reaction. His surprise was palpable. “Don’t belong where?”