“I thought you're afraid of heights?” I asked, more surprised she wanted to head up into the sky than by her dirty driving.
We rambled on about phobias once when the Bowmore had me feeling loose. The feisty brunette was afraid of heights, spiders, and serial killers if I remembered correctly. Not that a serial killer is a phobia, really. They weren’t irrational to fear.
She shrugged. “Avoiding it forever won't help me get over the fear, now will it?”
With winner's high blazing, she led me down the street, gliding across the asphalt. Every step was pronounced with a confident bounce, breasts heaving. I didn't doubt for a second I was missing an incredible show from behind, her ass likely just as juicy.
While I was a puddle of jelly over her, she wasn’t affected by my presence. In contrast, I had a half chub for most of the night, stoked with every glance her way.
Unlike the raceway karts, there wasn't a single person in line at the big wheel, so with the slip of a twenty, we boarded.
We climbed in the gondola and settled on either side. I had to invade her side with my legs, but I did my best to give her as much space as possible. As we took off, she tensed, breath hitching as we made the slow climb into the night sky.
“Well, tonight has been interesting...” I trailed, trying to keep her focus on me and not the ever-growing elevation.
To be honest, I wasn't crazy about riding on a machine slapped together and taken down more times than I'd like to think about either. Probably by some kid fresh out of high school too. Fuck.
“I'll say.” She remained stiff, staring into the distance, breath ragged. Her hands balled on her knees, knuckles white.
“I thought the host had seated you by mistake. I'm glad he didn't.”
“Really?” she asked, flicking her eyes to mine and biting her lip.
“Absolutely. You?”
“I thought you were being a jerk,” she laughed, smiling. “But once you said Bear I was shocked.”
“Pleasantly surprised, I hope?”
“Horrified actually,” she admitted.
I couldn't blame her; I was never cordial. I couldn't be. Not with the thought of her mouth on my cock coursing through my mind at every glance.
“But I'm pleasantly surprised now,” she declared, the truth out there for the taking. “You're a lot more personable than you let on. Dare I say likable?”
“Of course, I'm personable! I work in sales!” I chuckled.
“You're a lot easier to talk to when you're not so intense,” she offered, smile fading. “You can be scary.”
“Old habits,” I admitted, shrugging.
The easiest way to navigate the business was through confidence, hitting hard with unwavering strength. I brought that same intensity to the sales office, aiming to rub off on my employees.
“But, you're everything I expected in Bear and more.”
“More?” I asked, arching a brow.
“You're a lot cuter.” Her cheeks flushed red, her eyes averted to her lap as she tilted her chin down. “Seriously. If you looked like Quasimodo, I would have had a moral meltdown.”
I chuckled at her honesty. It was refreshing in a world of bullshitters. “And you're better than I ever imagined.”
The ride stopped, her eyes popping wide. The gondola tilted my way, our weight difference launching her in the air, forcing us to rock precariously back and forth, her face reddening as the bolts creaked.
I eased forward, dipping around the center pole to distribute my weight and reduce the movement of the cart. In my awkward angle, we were suddenly face to face, her cheeks flushed and lips parted.
She sat perfectly still, eyes heavy-lidded. It was now or never. I'd either kiss her, and she'd kiss me back, or she'd punch me in the dick and never speak to me again.
With a shaky breath, I leaned over the last few inches and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. Months of lust came to a head, finally crossing the line. Unfortunately, they were as soft and sensual as I imagined, tasting of honey chapstick and the Moscato she had with dinner.
While I was only aiming for a peck, she deepened the kiss, knocking me off my game. Every ethics course I ever took flashed before my eyes with Croft handbooks close behind. But no amount of scare tactics could scare off desire.
With nothing to lose but my sanity and career, I eased into the kiss and tasted her back, exploring her warmth. My control faltered, hands sinking in her hair.
She was so sweet.
So soft.
So responsive.
Her hands rested on my chest, small devices of torture burning everywhere they touched. One cradled my jaw, the smooth skin sliding over the grate of stubble as she claimed me right back.
Mine had a mind of their own as one wandered to her chest, cupping gently and earning a moan of approval. My fingers wrapped around her, the heaping breast a perfect fit, her nipple puckering in my palm.
What the hell was I doing?
I broke the kiss, gasping for air, leaning my forehead against hers. “You're going to be the death of me!”
She laughed, eyes doughy with desire, lips swollen from kisses.
“You're so beautiful,” I breathed, lapping it up, searing the image in my mind forever. It would all be over in a few hours. “And so much more.”
“So are you,” she replied as she licked her lips. “Handsome, charming, but terrible at racing.”
I smiled at her jab, but couldn’t break the spell of warning. “But this... this is dangerous.”
The words danced between us, the truth daring to destroy the moment, but it had to be said. Some sense was desperately needed.
“It is,” she agreed, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “But I don't care about that right now.”
I kissed her again, plummeting us both back into the depths of the forbidden. This time there were no holds barred, no hesitation. She accepted my conquest, bearing the brunt of my demands as we took what we needed.
I savored her lips, warning bells flashing as my eyes
