Desire coursed through her like a shot of vodka as she kissed him, curling her fingernails into his scalp. She wanted more. Him. This. She wanted him right now, right here in this doorway in the drumming rain. She kept kissing him, sliding her hands over his shoulders, and loving the feel of his firm muscles under the damp T-shirt. He felt deliciously warm and hard and determined as he leaned her against the wall and explored her mouth.

A car honked nearby, and she pulled away. She glanced back to see Brandon’s big hand splayed behind her head like a cushion.

“Where are we?” she asked, dazed.

“Don’t worry, it’s closed.”

“What is it?”

“A shop.”

He took her mouth again, like he couldn’t get enough of her, and she leaned back, tipping her hips against his, and he made a low sound deep in his chest.

His hands moved down her sides, shaping her body under her shapeless sweater and coming to rest on her hips. The tips of her breasts tingled, and she shivered, pulling him closer, pressing herself against his solid heat as his mouth moved over hers. His kiss alternated between hard and gentle, seeking and evasive, until she felt dizzy just trying to keep up. God, he could kiss. His avid mouth moved over hers, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Slowly, he eased closer, sliding his thigh between hers and pinning her to the wall. She shifted for balance.

“Relax,” he whispered, moving to support her weight with his strong thigh.

She closed her eyes and kissed him again, pressing her pelvis against him while his hands slid under her sweater. She gasped as his fingers moved over her ribs. His mouth trailed down her neck. She closed her eyes and shivered against him, loving the friction of their bodies through two layers of denim. His thumb rubbed over her nipple, and she let out a whimper.

He went still, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Come home with me.”

She eased back, and chilly air wafted between them. She looked past his shoulder at the rain-drenched street. She felt disoriented, and suddenly unsure. The kissing and the rain and the booze had made her light-headed, and she knew the smart thing would be to say no.

“Leigh.”

She looked at him, and the intensity in his eyes sent a jolt through her. No one had looked at her that way in a long, long time, and she’d forgotten how it felt.

Slowly, she slid her hand up the front of his T-shirt. She let it rest on his warm shoulder, where the muscles were bunched with tension.

She looked up, and he arched his eyebrows in question.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN