Most of all, I want to know what it was about me that finally put an end to it.
“Miles,” I say, each question wanting to dive off the tip of my tongue.
“I felt a raindrop,” he says.
Before the sentence leaves his mouth, I feel one, too. We’re both looking up at the sky now, and I’m swallowing all the questions along with the lump in my throat. The drops begin to fall faster, but we continue to stand there with our faces tilted up toward the sky. The sporadic drops turn into sprinkles, which then turn into full-on rain, but neither of us has moved. Neither of us is making a mad dash for the car. The rain is sliding down my skin, down my neck, into my hair, and soaking my shirt. My face is still tilted toward the sky, but my eyes are closed now.
There’s nothing in the world that compares to the feel and smell of brand-new rain.
As soon as that thought crosses my mind, warm hands meet my cheeks and slide to the nape of my neck, stealing the strength from my knees and the air from my lungs. His height is shielding me from most of the rain now, but I keep my eyes closed and tilted toward the sky. His lips come down gently over mine, and I find myself comparing the feel and smell of brand-new rain to his kiss.
His kiss is much, much better.
His lips are wet from the rain, and they’re a little bit cold, but he counterbalances that with the warm caress of his tongue against mine. The falling rain, the darkness surrounding us, and being kissed like this make it feel like we really are on a stage and our story has just reached its climax. It feels as if my heart and my stomach and my soul are all scrambling to get out of me and into him. If all my twenty-three years were laid on a graph, this moment would be the crest in my bell curve.
I should probably be a little bit sad and disappointed about this realization. I’ve had a few serious relationships in my past, but I can’t recall a single kiss with any of those guys where I felt this much. The fact that I’m not even in a relationship with Miles and I feel this affected by him should tell me something, but I’m too invested in his mouth to scrutinize that thought.
The rain has turned into a downpour, but neither of us seems to be affected by it. His hands drop to my lower back, and I fist his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer. His mouth fits mine as if we’re two pieces from the same puzzle.
The only thing that could possibly separate me from him right now would be a bolt of lightning.
Or the fact that it’s raining so hard I can’t breathe. My clothes are stuck to parts of me I didn’t even know clothes could stick to. My hair is so saturated it can’t absorb another drop of water.
I push against him until he releases my mouth from his, and then I bury my head under his chin and look down so I can take a breath without drowning. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and ushers me toward the parking lot, lifting his jacket over my head. He picks up his pace, and I match him step for step until we’re both running.
We finally reach my car, and he approaches the driver’s-side door with me, still shielding me from the rain. Once I’m inside the car, he rushes around to the passenger side. When both of our doors are shut, the silence inside the car magnifies the intensity of our heavy breathing. I reach my hands behind my head and gather my hair, then squeeze the excess water from it. It runs down my neck, my back, and my seat. It’s the first time I’m relieved to have leather seats in California.
I drop my head back and sigh heavily, then steal a glance in his direction. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life.”
I watch as a slow grin spreads across his face. His thoughts obviously plummet into the gutter with that statement.
“Pervert,” I whisper playfully.
He cocks his eyebrow and smirks. “Your fault.” He reaches across the seat and wraps his fingers around my wrist, pulling me toward him. “Come here.”
I make a quick inventory of our surroundings, but the rain is falling so hard I can’t even see outside. Which means no one can see in.
I adjust myself on top of him and straddle his lap as he scoots the seat as far back as it goes. He doesn’t kiss me, though. His hands slide down my arms and come to rest on my hips.
“I’ve never had sex in a car before,” he says with a little bit of hope in his confession.
“I’ve never had sex with a captain before,” I offer.
He runs his hands under my scrub top, sliding them up my stomach until they meet my bra. He cups both breasts, then leans forward and kisses me. His kiss doesn’t last long, because he breaks it to speak again. “I’ve never had sex as a captain before.”
I smile. “I’ve never had sex in scrubs before.”
His hands slide around to my back, and he dips them inside my waistband. He pulls my hips toward him at the same time as he lifts himself ever so slightly, immediately causing my grip to tighten around his shoulders and a gasp to pass my lips. His mouth moves to my ear as his hands re-create the sensual rhythm between us by pulling my hips forward again. “As hot as you look in uniform, I’d much rather have sex with you in nothing at all.”
I’m embarrassed at how easily his words alone can make me moan. I’m also embarrassed at how quickly his voice can undo me, to the point where I probably want my clothes to come off more than he does. “Please tell me you came prepared,” I say, my voice already heavy with want.
He shakes his head. “Just because I knew I would see you tonight doesn’t mean I came with expectations.” I’m immediately filled with disappointment. He lifts himself off the seat and slides his hand into his back pocket. “I did, however, come with a hell of a lot of hope.” He pulls the condom out of his wallet with a grin, and we both immediately begin to take action. My hands connect with the button on his jeans faster than our mouths connect. He slides his hands up the back of my top and begins to unclasp my bra, but I shake my head.
“Just leave it on,” I say breathlessly. The less clothes we take off, the faster we’ll be able to get dressed if we get caught.
He continues to unfasten it, despite my protest. “I don’t want to be inside you unless I can feel you against me.”
Wow. Okay, then.
When my bra is undone, he lifts my shirt over my head, and his fingers slide under the straps of my bra. He pulls them down my arms until the bra falls away. He tosses it into the backseat and then pulls his own shirt over his head. After his shirt joins my bra in the backseat, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him until our bare chests meet.
We both immediately inhale sharp breaths. The warmth of his body creates a sensation that I don’t want to pull away from. He begins kissing his way down my neck, his breath coming in rough waves against my skin.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers against my throat.
I smile, because that same exact thought just went through my own head. “Oh, I think I have an idea,” I reply.
His left hand palms one of my breasts, and he groans as his right hand dips into my pants.
“Off,” he says simply, tugging at the elastic band.
He doesn’t have to ask twice. I scoot back to my empty seat and begin removing the rest of my clothes while I watch him unzip his jeans.
His eyes are all over me as he rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth. When the only article of clothing remaining between us is his unbuttoned pair of jeans, I scoot toward him.