Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(22)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“You are the hottest thing I’ve ever met,” he told her, nuzzling into her neck. “Let me go home with you tonight and we can do this again, in a soft bed with cool sheets.”

“No gearshift in my thigh? No vest around my ears?” Suzanne clenched her inner muscles onto his cock, making him start to swell again. “That sounds like a plan, my friend.”

Friend was not the label he was going for.

Ryder wanted to be Suzanne’s husband again, not just on paper because he was a bonehead and forgot to sign something, but because she wanted to be with him, in his house and in his heart.

It was crazy. It was dangerous, foolhardy, arrogant, and blind.

They hadn’t worked for a reason. Probably for more than one reason.

But Ryder was starting to think that maybe their paperwork not being filed properly wasn’t just happenstance, that maybe it was fate. Maybe it was saying that yes, they’d had problems, but they were still meant to be.

They were still legally married and he wanted another shot at making that legit.

Tonight was as good a night as any to start persuading Suzanne that maybe they should hit pause before they headed to court and signed a damn thing.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SUZANNE was sweating in places sweat should never be, her hair was stuck to her lip, her thighs were burning from the awkward position, and her panties had cut off circulation to her ankles, but she wasn’t complaining.

She had needed that orgasm desperately. Tension had been building up in her for weeks, and the last five minutes had gone a long way toward relieving that.

It had probably been stupid as hell to have sex with her ex, but at the moment, she didn’t care in the slightest. She’d done it, it had been hot and frantic and satisfying, and she was about to do it again.

“I guess we should move,” Ryder murmured lazily into her neck.

Suzanne knew he was right, but it was relaxing lying against him, the familiar smell of his cologne enveloping her, his touch light on her bare hips. It was odd that it didn’t feel more wrong, that she wasn’t freaking out and worrying about the ramifications. It just felt . . . pleasant. Not completely comfortable, but satisfying.

Maybe it was like putting on the jeans you’d worn at your thinnest. They weren’t a great fit anymore, but it made you feel good to try them on and get them over your hips. A turning back of the clock.

Suzanne peeled herself off of Ryder and smiled at him. “You owe me o**l s*x.” With that, she separated their bodies and flopped half on her seat, half on his, trying to figure out how to right her twisted panties and get them back into place.

“I’ll give you all the o**l s*x you want,” he said, tucking his semi-erection back into his jeans and zipping up. “I’ll o**l s*x you to death.”

Leg muscles protesting, Suzanne paused in her panty pursuit and laughed. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“I’m saying I’ll go until you can’t take it anymore.”

That sounded promising. But she wasn’t about to let him know about the shiver of anticipation that danced across her flesh. “But until I’m dead?”

“If that’s what happens, so be it.”

Suzanne laughed. Very few men could amuse her, but Ryder had always been able to catch her off guard and make her laugh with his nonchalant wit. “Yeah, but if you kill me, you’ll have to finish planning Nikki and Jonas’s wedding.”

His lip curled. “Shit, I’d better be careful then. I don’t want to get stuck with that hot mess.”

“But you are the best man, after all. How’s that going for you?” Suzanne managed to get her underwear up to approximately where they should be. The puffy vest was still driving her nuts, so she stripped it off and flung it in the backseat. That made getting ahold of her jeans at her ankles a bit easier.

“Well, it’s not that bad, really. It mostly just involves listening to Jonas do Elvis imitations.”

Suzanne suddenly realized the reason she was so overheated had only partially to do with Ryder. As she shifted to haul the denim over her butt, a blast of scorching air hit her in the arm. “Shit, I left the car running this whole time. No wonder I’m burning up. And what a waste of gas.”

But Ryder raised his hands, tilted his head, and curled his lip. Jesus, he was about to do an Elvis imitation, she could feel it coming on. Like a cold sore.

“Stop right there.” Holding her hand out, she said, “I’m begging you. I can’t have any more faux Elvis in my life. I’m up to my eyeballs in kitsch and memorabilia trying to put together a reception that makes Nikki happy. If you imitate the King, we may wind up with you back on my windshield.”

Not that she meant it. And he knew that.

Ryder laughed and leaned over and gave her a big, smacking kiss. “Whatever you say, gorgeous. Tonight is all about you. And by the way, we should switch seats so I can drive. You’ve had a long week and you should just relax.”

“Okay,” she said readily enough. She was tired. She was relaxed and lazy and postorgasmic blissful. She was giggly and enjoying herself more than she had in weeks. It was nice to have someone at her back, wanting to help her out.

Dangerous, too, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she was just going to enjoy the moment with Ryder.

They got out of the car and moved around the hood to change seats, and Ryder stopped her by blocking her path, like she knew he would. Like she wanted him to. He moved up nice and close, his chest against hers, his hands encircling her waist and sliding under her sweater to the small of her back. That confident smile was one she was familiar with, one that had been turning her on since the first night they’d met at that wedding over six years ago.

“You want something?” she asked him, licking her bottom lip slowly.

“I want a kiss.” His fingers had moved below her waist and were skimming the top of her backside inside her jeans, and his mouth was mere inches from hers, but he hovered, waited for permission.

Why make it easy for him? “Say please.”

Ryder gave a soft laugh. “Please.”

Then without waiting for her answer, he took her mouth with his and owned the kiss. Suzanne could only hang on to his arms and spread her lips for him, letting him work his magic. God, the jerk could kiss, all the right pressure, the right rhythm, the right angle, to make her hot and wet and incoherent all over again. Just when she was beginning to maneuver her body closer to his, seeking his erection, and contemplating sex on the hood of her car, it was over.