I hold up a hand. “Yeah, sorry about that, mate. New in town. My apologies, yeah?”

His face visibly relaxes. The female passenger, I’m guessing his wife, leans over him to look up at me. She waves a quick hand. “Welcome to Chicago! We visited Sydney a few years ago on our honeymoon. Beautiful city. We had the best time.”

“Oh, my God. You have got to be kidding me,” Brooke mumbles next to me, her voice breaking with a soft giggle.

I give her a quick smile, then turn back to the couple. “Oh yeah? I’m glad to hear that. And again, I’m terribly sorry about this little blunder. I hope I haven’t ruined your night.”

The driver waves his hand dismissively. The car behind him lays on his horn.

“All right! Jesus! Are we all in a hurry?” he yells, craning his neck around to look at them. He gives me a sharp nod. “Enjoy Chicago. Watch out for one-way streets.”

“Right. Got it.”

They pull ahead and continue down the street.

The next car brushes past, this bloke settling on giving me the bird instead of a quick chat. I nod apologetically, waving a hand at his gesture.

Brooke couldn’t be more amused sitting next to me, her head back against the seat and her hands covering her face as she laughs into the silence of the car.

“Unbelievable. You could’ve done anything if it was just that one car! You could’ve blocked the street entirely and refused to move. Opened fire on them. Acted like a dick. I’m pretty sure that couple was close to offering to name their first born after you. That guy was pissed, and then . . .” she pauses, pointing a finger at me. “As soon as you opened that mouth of yours, dropping those adorable ‘yeahs’, it was like the second coming for those people. Mason the Messiah.”

I flash her a grin as I make it out of the one-way street. “I told you it would be all right. We had plenty of room.”

“Plenty of room. Yeah, okay,” she snickers. “It was that mouth. I’m telling you. I know what that mouth does to me. Now I’m seeing it work on the general population. You have a gift, Mason. You should probably go into politics.”

I don’t hear anything after . . .

“What does it do to you, Brooke?”

An ache pinches in the center of my chest.

She slowly turns her head, then drops it back against the seat, staring at me as the city lights move over her face.

I want to continue looking at her. In the daylight, preferably, where I can really see every emotion wash over her face. The heady look in her eyes I’m hoping is there. I don’t need my attention being pulled away for the sake of safety right now, but that’s exactly what happens before she can answer me.

“Wait. Just hold on. Don’t say anything yet.”

I pick up speed and take us back in the direction we came.

We drive through the city in silence until Brooke fiddles with the stereo, tuning the station to soft rock. Coldplay and One Republic become the background noise of our night. It mellows my suddenly anxious mind, my restless body, impatient against the seat.

It takes us twenty minutes to get out of the city.

I want to reach out and take her hand again. I want her to finish what she was going to tell me, but I keep my hands firmly planted on the wheel and my questions to myself until I pull us onto a dirt path that leads to an overlook I found when I went exploring my first day here.

It’s a secluded spot. I believe there’s a few trails that lead to some campsites, and a lake nearby. I made a mental note the other day to come back here. Discover more of it. I hadn’t realized at the time I’d be doing it so soon with Brooke.

I park near a lamp post and turn my attention to her.

She smiles warmly at me. She looks like she’s glowing under the amber lights provided from above.

“Wet,” she whispers, angling her body, her hair spilling over the edge of the seat.

I lean closer, fitting her sweet face between my hands. “What’s that, gorgeous?”

She inhales sharply as I slide my mouth against hers. Her perfect fucking lips open for me, inviting me to take her. We both moan, her hands fisting my shirt and mine moving to her neck, tangling in her hair as I tilt her head. Her warm tongue strokes along mine.

“It makes me wet,” she says breathlessly between kisses. “I’m . . . so wet, Mason. God, my thong is probably soaked right now. Useless. I can take it off if you’d like.”

I groan as my hand falls to her lap, then moves along the smooth, warm skin of her upper thigh underneath her dress. I press against the lace of her g-string.

Soaked.

“Yes,” she moans, her head flopping back. “Yes, please, touch me. God, I need this.”

I lick up her throat, dragging my teeth along her skin as I slide one finger inside her, then another. She’s silky and hot. She trembles when I press against her clit.

“Mason.”

“I want to take you out on a proper date,” I whisper against her ear, my fingers slowly pumping inside her, slower when she starts to rock into my hand.

“Greedy little devil. You want to come?”

She groans and I suck on her lip.

“This weekend. Dinner. Say yes to me, Brooke.”

She growls, chewing on her lip. “Mm, what? Dinner? Why are we discussing dinner? Can’t you just . . . focus on one task at a time? This first. Negotiations later . . . Jesus.”

I bite back a chuckle. Her plea, even though it is humorous, sounds desperate all the same.

She wants this, my fingers fucking her in a vacant field under the stars. My mouth clamping down on every visible, flawless inch of her body. Maybe she’s thought about me doing this to her. God knows I have. I’ve thought about doing everything. Right now, I’m thinking about pulling her over the seat and stripping her of these clothes, tasting the soft skin between her legs. Toying with her clit while I pump my shaft against her heavy tits.

But anything with Brooke is perfect. This right here, my cock throbbing, straining against my zipper, harder than fucking steel, her breathless words against my mouth . . .

“Harder,” she whispers.

“More,” she begs.

I move my thumb over her clit and she arches away from the seat, gasping.

“Like that?”

She nods frantically, clawing at my arm, my shirt, the hand between her legs. Her hips begin circling, her pussy seeking friction against my palm.

“God, Mason . . . Mason.”

I twist my wrist and claim her mouth again, swallowing her indecent noises, the sweet way she pants my name. I want to drown in her. I want her taste to linger in my mouth, her smell to cling to the walls of my lungs.

Brooke.

How can I be so lost in this woman already?

“Perfect,” I whisper against her jaw. “You are fucking perfect.”

She turns her head to capture my mouth, biting and sucking at my tongue. I add another finger and grip the back of her neck, keeping her pinned to me.

“You’re close, gorgeous.”

“I know that,” she growls, her head rolling back, thighs spreading wider. “If you stop right now, I swear to God I will make it so you never have children. I will pin your balls to the seat with my heel.”

I laugh quietly. My cock surprisingly doesn’t react in an offensive way to that threat.

I’m too hard to care. To stop. To think.

Curling my fingers, I pump them inside her and move my thumb wildly over her clit. It only takes a few more seconds and she’s drenching my hand. Writhing against the seat, she gasps into my mouth, the pleasure tearing through her so perfectly, so exquisitely, I break the seal of our lips and lean back to get a better look.

I thought she was beautiful before . . .

“Mason,” she pants, eyes heavy-lidded, her hair sticking to her cheek as she tries to steady her breaths.

“Dinner, Brooke. This weekend. What’s your answer?”

Her eyes fall closed. “Yes,” she says through a heavy exhale. “Okay, fine, I’ll go out with you to dinner. You earned it. That was . . . worth a meal.”