“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.”

The light from above catches in the corner of her mouth. It’s lifted slightly. A hint of a smile.

Fuck me. I’m so done for.

I’m suddenly grateful she can’t see me clearly. My mouth stretches into what has to be the biggest grin of my life.

I want dates with her. Dinners. Conversation. Hours upon hours of what we shared tonight.

And she said yes.

I slide my fingers out of her, anxious for a taste. A little desperate for it. At the sound of my gluttonous moan, Brooke peeks her eyes open, then gasps and leans forward, getting an inch away from my mouth.

“Well?” she asks, an unruly gleam in her eye as her hand circles my wrist.

She wants to know how she tastes. I could describe her for hours.

I slip my fingers out of my mouth, tracing the wetness along her jaw. “I could live with my mouth between your legs, Brooke. I could die there too.”

Her eyes fill with curiosity, and something else. Fear, maybe? Have I said too much?

I pull back and grip the wheel with both hands. My head hits the back of the seat.

Fuck, I had to say that, didn’t I? I couldn’t just say how fucking incredible she is? How I didn’t think it was possible for something to be sweet and fiery at the same time? Shit, even admitting I’m a full-blown addict after one bloody lick would’ve been a better response.

Why don’t you just propose right now, you tosser? Really go full-blown pathetic.

“Mason,” Brooke murmurs.

I shift my attention off the endless night sky and onto her.

She reaches for her belt. I can’t remember her ever taking it off.

“Can we drive some more? Maybe around here? The stars are insane right now.” She dials up the volume on the stereo, tilting her head to see out the windscreen. Ed Sheeran fills the car.

On second thought . . .

Maybe I haven’t spoken out of line at all?

Relief warms my blood. I melt against the seat as I shift the car into reverse.

We drive for hours, chasing the moonlight all over Chicago. Our conversation couldn’t be more random. We talk about everything. Her job, my home-life back in Australia, our favorite movies. Brooke rambles about her family, her sister Juls and her niece and nephew. How she’s living with Joey and his husband until she saves up enough for a place of her own. Sometimes we drive in silence, listening to the radio or nothing at all when Brooke grows agitated with the music selections. It’s comfortable, and easy. God, it’s easy talking to her. There’s no awkward pauses, no need to feel like you have to keep the conversation going. She makes a few more cracks about animals native to Australia, and whether or not I kept any of them as pets.

“Yeah,” I tell her, containing my amusement. “We kept a few crocs in our backyard. Mum didn’t care much for the safety of her children.”

She giggles into the night. The wind blows her hair around her and she tries frantically to tame it.

Fuck, she is precious.

I pull up in front of the Tavern after I catch a few yawns out of her. The footpath is quiet. It’s nearing 1:00 A.M. .

I feel wide awake. Drunk and high off Brooke. Reveling in this addiction I don’t want to fight.

She stares down at her lap after removing her seatbelt.

I fight the urge to drive off with her and bypass the goodbyes.

“I feel like you tricked me into agreeing to dinner,” she mumbles, looking over at me with a weak smile. “That seemed very calculated on your part.”

I lean across the console and kiss her cheek. “Not sure I know what you’re referring to. But calculated or not, you make the best sounds when you come.” I pull back, smiling at the heavy look that’s in her eyes, the same one she had in the field when I slid my finger over the smooth rise of her clit.

She wets her lips, then pulls the door handle and exits the car in a hurry.

“Yeah . . . okay, well, I guess I’ll see you this weekend sometime.”

“I’m just across the street, Brooke. You’ll see me before this weekend.”

She blinks rapidly, then nods once, her hand pushing her hair off her shoulder. “Mm. Right. You need to commit to your stalker status. It would be weird at this point if you didn’t follow me to get coffee, or do random drop-ins at my place of business.”

I chuckle, resting my elbow on the console. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

“Working.”