CHAPTER EIGHT

O’Shea was beyond stoked.

This is what she’d been imagining for months and months. Riding around Boston with Billboard, teasing, flirting, and trading stories; opening up about things they hadn’t had a chance to share before. The only thing better would be swapping spit, but that would happen soon enough if O’Shea had anything to say about it.

Billboard might want to wait until all systems were go, and all the boxes in his head had the appropriate checkmarks, but O’Shea wasn’t exactly known for her patience.

What she was known for, was not being able to make up her mind when a situation presented more than one option, solution, or conclusion.

An amused gurgle worked its way up into her throat. Damn. She was having no such problem with her Billboard fixation. She wanted the man, she wanted him as soon as possible, and she wanted him any way she could have him.

And he was demanding they wait.

Bummer.

Still, she’d make the best of it until she could convince him to take a leap of faith with her. His vehicle, for instance, was a great distraction.

Yup. Billboard’s sweet wheels were a bit of icing on the anticipation-cake they were baking. The vintage Bronco was one hell of a truck, and it was pushing all her gear-head buttons. A promise of a drive down the coast soon, made her giddy… Well, maybe not as giddy as imagining herself on a dune somewhere, draped over Billboard’s body, taking a ride on him in the sand, but… It would have to be enough for starters.

O’Shea sighed.

“What was that for?” Billboard asked, zigging and zagging expertly through traffic. She loved watching his strong hands on the wheel.

Well, he asked …

“Just imagining what I could do to your body if you’d give me the green light,” she sent back with a bit of attitude.

Billboard gave a strangled laugh. “Uh, uh. You’ll just have to be happy that I’m contemplating moving from full-stop-red to easing-into-things-yellow,” he told her, then became serious. “In the days after Peggy declared whatever we were doing, dead-in-the-water…hell, even well before that when the writing was on the wall, I made up my mind not to get involved with anyone again.”

He looked like he meant it.

“That’s just sad,” O’Shea told him, “and not very forward-thinking of you. Where’s your adventurous spirit?” she probed. “I’ve had duds, too, you know, but that doesn’t mean I stopped looking.”

“You’ve had… Huh. Am I a rebound?” he asked sharply.

O’Shea instantly shut the illogical train on his brain’s dead-end tracks, down. “No,” she assured him. “You are not an act of desperation. I haven’t had a true boyfriend in a couple years if you must know. Not that I haven’t tried. You remember Billy, don’t you?” she questioned pointedly.

Billboard grunted. “I do. He was Brigid’s partner back on the OPD.” A scowl crossed his face. “Wait. Don’t tell me you and he…?”

O’Shea laughed. Billboard sounded jealous, and she felt a surge of joy. Nobody had come that close to claiming her in a very long time. “No. We didn’t. But it was a near miss. We kissed a few times, but after a palm to the boob and a squeeze of his junk, we couldn’t bring ourselves to go any further. Truthfully, it was like fondling a relative, and skeeved us both out.”

Billboard took a big breath. “Okay then. So, you brought him up, why?”

She rolled her eyes. “To let you know you aren’t a fill-in for a broken heart I left behind in Louisiana.” She turned her whole body toward his as far as the seatbelt would allow. “You, Billboard, are one of a kind, and I’m being dead honest with you that I’ve never been this interested in getting to know any guy before, ever.”

His whole demeanor lightened, but some of his skepticism clearly remained. “Why me, O’Shea? You’re…smart, dedicated, gorgeous. You could have anybody you want at the crook of your finger.”

O’Shea wrinkled her nose and shrugged. She wasn’t vain, but she’d been told enough times that she was decent in the looks department. That had a lot to do with catching a man’s eye, but had provided very little in regards to maintaining a relationship. Right . A relationship . None of her hook-ups in the past could be categorized as such, and her chest fluttered, wondering if Billboard might fill the bill.

She cleared her throat, pushing down her sudden yearning. “Who knows why anyone wants who they want?” she sent back. “I mentioned your pheromones before, and yes, to me you smell awesome. Someone else might not even blink at your scent, but it makes me salivate.”

She let that settle in for a moment before she continued. “I’m also thrilled with you, as a human being; how passionate you are about your work and your team. I’ve seen you in action, and you give your missions everything you’ve got. That’s an ethic I can get behind.”

It was now time to stroke his ego even more. “Then, of course, there’s how stunningly handsome you are.” She exaggerated batting her eyes at him coquettishly. “I’d have to be dead not to notice your chiseled face, your expressive glare, and your killer lips.”

She saw him purse those bows, inadvertently, and wasn’t that cute?

“And if we really want to get down to the nitty-gritty, your body is to die for. Your shoulders are as big as the doorway in my little apartment back home. Your abs are so tight, they might just have hospital corners, and…have I mentioned your ass?” she added impishly. O’Shea hummed approvingly. “Oh, I think I have.”

Billboard didn’t say a word after her long-winded list, but O’Shea wasn’t surprised. He was a man who needed time to digest, and she’d give that to him.

He turned into a parking garage, took his ticket, and drove up a few flights before parking.

By the time he killed the engine, O’Shea was chewing on the inside of her cheek in anticipation.

“Well?” she finally asked. Screw waiting any longer.

“Well,” he repeated, “you’re convincing, I’ll say that for you. Because…” He swallowed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed. “You’ve got me moving up my agenda. I’m going to go against everything I said earlier, and kiss the hell out of you. If that’s okay,” he added as an afterthought.

“O…okay?” she stuttered excitedly. “Yikes! It’s more than okay, Billboard. It’s fucking imperative now.” O’Shea bounced in her seat, not sure how long she could contain herself while she waited for him to make a move.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long.

He unfastened his seatbelt, then reached across and clicked hers off.

With no effort at all, he lifted her out of her seat, and positioned her on his lap, her legs draped across the shifter.

When he swept her dark curtain of hair behind her ear, and leaned down to sniff her neck, she shivered and thought she might pass out. It was the single most innocent, yet erotic experience of her life; the way he took his time, inhaling her scent and scratching her neck with his facial scruff, spending a good few minutes with his nose bumping into her sensitive ear whorls.

Her panties grew damp, and just when she thought she might orgasm from his simple but indecently powerful touch, he kissed along her jaw and claimed her lips.

Lips …

His were soft at first, exploring, nibbling, encouraging her to open slightly; their plumpness being fully caressed by his. When his foray turned harder, more intense, O’Shea’s breathing sped up.

Where at first he’d coerced and cajoled, his new goal seemed to be claiming.

Then after a split second of hesitation, he fully possessed her.

She groaned as his tongue demanded entry, twining her hands around the back of his neck to anchor herself, wanting to give back as good as he gave.

Like a cat, she rubbed her breasts against his hard chest while their mouths fused, the friction on her sensitive nubs increasing her rise toward a fully clothed climax; something that she’d never experienced before.

Seriously ? She was going to come, just from getting kissed?

Except…who could call this “just kissing”? Billboard was owning her, freaking body and soul.

She mewed deep in her throat, and wiggled to get closer.

Billboard groaned, and she took that as permission to scootch her legs around to straddle his hips. It was a tight squeeze, positioning herself between the steering wheel and his hard body, but who cared if she couldn’t quite breathe. Breathing was overrated.

And she needed more.

Dragging her hands from his head, one went to his chest, gripping the material of his shirt to twist it into a rucked-up bunch, while the other palm headed south, toward the good stuff.

She’d just about made it to her destination when—

“Nope,” Billboard rasped. His breathing was ragged as he reached down and pulled her hand away. “No more. Not yet, and not here.”

O’Shea groaned and dropped her forehead down to his nose, purposely bumping against it rhythmically while lamenting. “You are such a killjoy, Billboard. If you’d just let me get my hands on your big cock, I would have orgasmed on contact.”

He let out a splintered laugh. “Yeah. Well. Me, too. And that would have been messy.”

She drew up her head and looked him dead in the eyes, drowning in the lust she saw there. This was no time to back off. Instead—at least verbally—she needed to double-down. “And if you’d come all over yourself, I would have licked you clean,” she purred, giving her lips a slow, provocative swipe of her tongue.

He groaned, his eyes momentarily closing. “Shit. You are so fucking potent, O’Shea.” His voice sounded as if it were scraping across rocks.

As if he couldn’t help himself, Billboard went in for one more, swift kiss, before lifting her off him with a sigh.

O’Shea found herself back in her own seat, but…

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Now she could see Billboard’s chest heaving, and his enormous cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans.

“That,” she pointed at the bulge, “looks totally uncomfortable.” O’Shea reached over as if to help him.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her a mere inch away from nirvana, and gave a strangled laugh. “Hands to yourself, O’Shea. If you touch it, it’s going to get even more painful.”

Reluctantly she backed off, then watched as he lifted his hips, reached down into his pants, and straightened himself out.

He gave a sigh of relief, and she laughed.

“Look at you. Content and giving a sigh, when you could have been screaming unintelligibly as you came,” she mock-pouted.

He huffed, but clearly became amused as she intended. “I don’t know about screaming, but I’m feeling all kinds of unintelligible right now, with or without the orgasm.”

O’Shea gurgled pleasurably—which was something she was sure she’d never done before—and leaned over to rub her cheek on his. “If it’s any consolation, I’m feeling pretty darned brainless, too. I— “

A knock on the driver’s side window had them leaping apart.

“What the fuck…?” Billboard cursed and turned his head to see Sarge’s face inches from his on the other side of the window, smirking like a fool.

Brigid was standing right behind him with the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face that O’Shea had ever witnessed, and that was saying a lot.

O’Shea groaned. “Damn. I wonder how much they saw,” she questioned.

“Enough, clearly,” Billboard gruffed back.

“We’re never going to live this down,” she muttered.

“That’s a given,” Billboard agreed. “And I, uh, might have been a little…mouthy when he was falling for Brigid, so don’t expect him to go easy.”

“Great. Guy stuff,” O’Shea grumbled. “Acting all macho and caveman-y. At least with my lady friends, all they want is details, like…how good was it? How big is it…?” She trailed off, and Billboard regarded her, horrified.

“They do not.”

O’Shea snorted. “They absolutely do.”

There was no time to argue the point, however. She had to nip this particular incursion in the bud. “Roll down the window,” she demanded.

Billboard complied, but she wasn’t sure he realized what he was doing since he still appeared slightly dazed.

O’Shea spoke first, taking control. “Sarge. Brigid.”

“Hey, O’Shea,” Brigid chirped rabidly, clearly gearing up to dig for deets. “When—?”

“This was our first kiss,” O’Shea snapped pointedly, knowing her eyes danced in suppressed glee. “And if you make a big deal over it, it may not happen again. So shut your yaps and keep this to yourselves or I’ll haunt you forever for derailing my wanna-be love life. Got it?”

Sarge looked stunned, but Brigid got the picture, calling her out on her bullshit. “Phht,” she replied saucily. “If that was your first kiss, it was so ridiculously hot, we both know there’s more to come whether Sarge and I blab or not. But in solidarity with my best bud,” she amended, “I’ll keep it zipped for now.” She mimed closing her lips and locking them, stashing the invisible key in her bra.

O’Shea gave a final nod; satisfied.

“Yup. That’ll do.”