Her head snapped up. “That was an innuendo.”

“Sort of.” He shrugged. “Okay, hell, yeah, it was. I admit it.” He was a guy, he couldn’t help himself. Almost everything reminded him of sex and how much he wanted to get her naked. “But I do think you’d like riding along on the track with me. We should do that sometime, they have special events for that. You can have the thrill of the speed without having to be the driver.”

“I would like that.” Imogen stared up at him, and the tip of her tongue came out and slid across her bottom lip. “I would like that a lot.”

Since she had stripped off her conservative yet very hip blazer, Imogen was wearing only a long-sleeved button-up shirt that was currently gaping at her cleavage. She didn’t have large breasts at all, but what Ty could see—and okay, what he had liberally felt up the night before—was that they were firm and pert. He could see her nipples through the fabric, and it was so obvious to him that she wanted him. Why the hell had he sent her home the night before? It had made sense at the time in that he had wanted to do the right thing, but who was he to tell her they should wait if she didn’t want to?

Seriously, what guy was stupid enough to do that?

Apparently him.

But that was last night. Today he was going to take what her eyes and her lips were offering.

Ty leaned into the window and kissed her quickly, rougher than he intended, but he was on the edge. She didn’t seem to mind, given that she stared up at him and gave a soft moan of pleasure. Damn, he loved the way she gave in to him, the way she let him lead.

He could see the question in her eyes, knew she wasn’t going to ask it. Not that he could blame her. She felt like he had turned her offer down the night before, and she wasn’t going to put herself out there a second time and risk rejection. But that had never been his intention, not at all. He wanted her in the way he hadn’t wanted a woman in so long, maybe ever. This was urgent, a burning, biting need to take Imogen and make her his.

Brushing his finger across her bottom lip, he said, “Come home with me. Spend the night with me. Please.”

Ty leaned against the side of his car, muscles tense, mouth hot, waiting for her answer. He wouldn’t blame her if she said no, but he would probably cry.

But Imogen just looked up at him and said, “Get me out of this car and take me to bed.”

That was not going to be a problem.

CHAPTER EIGHT