Quick Study - By Gretchen Galway Page 0,32

at him like she didn’t know what to think anymore. He smiled back and drank in the sight of her, feeling his heart ache. The weeks—months—without her had been numbing and pale. Having her so close was like flipping a switch inside him.

Losing her again was unthinkable.

“I'd love to take you to dinner, if you'd let me,” he said when she returned with her own drink. “Later?”

She licked her straw, then wrapped her lips around it. Paul tensed, watching her suck in the cold, sweet liquid.

“If you mention marriage again, I'm leaving,” she said. Her warm brown eyes met his in a frank, open gaze. When she licked the straw again, slowly, her eyes still on his, he realized what she meant: Keep it sexual.

After the long separation, Paul was in no position to argue. She had him hard at hello. “I want you in my bed,” he said, ignoring the people around them, the counter help, the guy bumping his chair behind him. He dropped his voice to a low, urgent growl. “Maybe I just want to marry you because you're the best fuck I've ever had in my life.”

Her pink mouth stilled around the straw and her eyes widened. Then she smiled—a confident, sultry, womanly smile—and Paul nearly unzipped his pants right there at the table.

She stood up. “Walk me to my car.”

He was on his feet escorting her down the suburban street to her distinctive VW before she could pretend either one of them was in control of what was happening to them. Her sweet, flowery smell filled his nose and he bent lower to breathe it in, conscious of her quick steps next to his, then dragged his lips across her temple and inhaled more deeply. “God, I've missed you.”

She pulled out her keys. “I'll meet you at your place. This time I'm bringing my own ride home.”

“See you there.” He stole a kiss and she couldn't help smiling at him. Though she tried.

“Go on,” she said. “I think I can find it.”

Paul jogged—no, sprinted—down the street to his car, glad she was speaking to him, grateful she was going to fuck him, shoving aside the pathetic voice in his heart that said it wasn't enough. That he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pressuring her—especially during the raw, unguarded moments after they'd had the best mind-blowing sex of his life.

Don't be a dork, he told himself. Sex is better than nothing. With her, better than anything.

She'd realize what they had eventually. He could wait.

Watching Paul jog around the corner, Bonnie bit her lip, smiling and imagining the handsome male backside bare and sweaty under her hands. Under her tongue, which would explore each muscle from his shoulders down to the dimples of his ass. She would have him spread-eagle in a king-size bed, tangled up in crisp, white sheets, every inch there for her taking. Before he grew impatient and took her.

Suddenly, a thick arm hooked around her neck and jerked her backwards.

“Pa—” she gasped, and the arm tightened. White sparks shot across her vision, then red, then black. Her throat was too small and getting smaller with each shallow breath.

“Hello again,” her attacker said, and then she knew. He was supposed to be in jail.

He slammed her against her car, arm tightening around her neck until she was loudly gasping for breath and could feel his pelvis press into her ass. He was hard.

Don't panic. Fight him off.

But he started talking while he thrust his hips against her, each move bringing the roar of rushing blood into her ears. Her concentration splintered.

“Remember question five?” His tone was conversational, almost pleasant. “Did you read question five?”

At first she didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Too busy concentrating on sucking in enough oxygen to help her brain remember the steps for breaking a back-approach strangle.

“I bet you're glad to experience question five with me,” he said. “Grateful. You are grateful, aren't you?”

At least he didn't seem to expect her to speak, the sick fuck. He was getting off on grinding his pathetic erection into her ass, a repulsive assault that she had to pretend wasn't happening so she could overrule the building terror in her mind. Not entirely in control of her emotions, she began to thrash against his hold and fight to get her fingers around the arm at her throat.

Duck your chin. Get air.

Both his arms were occupied holding her in the chokehold, and she was able to dig her