Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [58]
She’d gotten a little huffy. “Don’t do me any favors, Tommy Grant.”She’d whipped around to go back to the others by the fireside, only Tommy caught her arm and pulled her close. He leaned her back against the tower’s frame and kissed her until her toes curled. Her first kiss.
When he finally broke away, he said, “We both know where this is all heading, but let’s take it slow, easy. First step—how about going to the drive-in next Friday night?”
Now, she sat in Tommy’s car at The Windmill, hardly able to believe this wasn’t another of her hungry dreams. She looked at Tommy as he shut off the car, reached for a speaker and hung it on the glass, rolling it half way up. She sighed at those beautiful hands—hands she’d envisioned upon her body. Oh, when she stared into those green eyes, slow and easy never came to mind.
She knew they preached good girls don’t. Well, she was Tommy’s girl now. She wanted to be his wife, his lover. Good was the last thing on her mind.
All these beautiful fantasies constantly filled her, where Tommy was hers and she belonged to him, body and soul. Only, in those sparkling dreams, she was never the one making the moves. Tommy was older. She’d always imagined he’d know precisely what to do and not need a push.
As Woody Woodpecker ha-ha-ha-HA-ha-ed his way across the screen to the soft lull of the windshield wipers, Laura wondered how Tommy would react if she pounced on him.
“You’re quiet tonight, Laura,” he commented. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“A penny? I think they’re worth a quarter.”
He smiled slowly, shifted in the seat to slide his hand into his left pocket. He pulled out a coin, took her hand and put the quarter into her palm, then leisurely closed her fingers around it. It was hot—hot from his body heat.
“There’s your quarter. Now what’s on that pretty mind?”
She sighed. Sometimes men were so thick! Very deliberately, she dropped the quarter down the front of her top, lodged it between her breasts. She’d worn a deep V-neck sweater, hoping to give Tommy a few ideas. Guess she’d have to hit him over the head. “If you want the quarter back you have to go and get it.”
Tommy stared at her, not blinking, as if she’d lost her mind. She wondered if she’d suddenly begun speaking a foreign language.
Then he moved—so damn fast it scared her.
He shifted, one hand on her neck, the other on her waist, pulling her against his chest and kissing her. Not sweet, closed mouth kisses, either; these were dark and hungry, his mouth open on hers, molding her, shaping her, turning, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Hell, her first kiss had been just the week before at the bell tower. This was French kissing! For an instant she wasn’t sure she liked it.
The girls were forever gossiping and sniggering about French kissing; she’d always wondered what it was like. It seemed so wicked, so racy. She’d imagined Tommy kissing her like that, but this wasn’t anything like her daydreams. It was . . . more. So much more. Suddenly, she liked his tongue dueling with hers.
Tommy devoured her with a hunger she didn’t know could exist. Oh, her body pulsed with urges. This was painful. Her breasts were sensitive, hard, aching for Tommy’s hands on them. Her womb cramped with a desperate need, and she knew nothing but Tommy inside her would ease the feeling. Fire skittered through her blood.
Tommy broke their kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Damn it, Laura, I said we needed to take this slow.”
She smiled, hearing the breathless hitch to his words. “Slow? I forget the definition of the word.”
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that?” Tommy ran his left hand up and down her ribcage.
“No, how long?”
“Too damn long.” He moaned and closed his mouth over hers again, taking her to heaven. Then Tommy scooted sideways to gain a better position, his elbow hitting the steering wheel,