Kane’s POV
Brandy retreats toward the far door, her movements nervous as I take off my jacket and throw it into the front seat, before I prowl across the polished leather toward her.
‘We’re in a parking lot Kane,’ she repeats again, her voice barely a whisper, breathless and trembling but a flicker of excitement teases her irises.
‘Then you had better be quiet,’ I reply. My smile is predatory, edged with a promise that is downright dangerous.
I reach out a hand, my fingers locking like a vice around one of her slender ankles. With a sharp tug, I haul her back toward me. My woman squeals as she slides across the seat, her dress bunching up high around her upper thighs, leaving nothing but soft skin in its wake as her back lands on the firm cushion of the chair beneath us.
Sinking down
