Hot Docs On Call: His Christmas Wish. Susan Carlisle

I’m good at.”

       CHAPTER NINE

      YES, IT HAD been a while since she’d had sex, but McKenzie wasn’t a virgin. She enjoyed sex, was athletic enough to have good stamina and a good healthy drive so she felt she was decent in the sack. So why was she suddenly so nervous?

      Because she’d essentially agreed to have sex with Lance.

      With Lance!

      Wasn’t that what the dress, the hair and makeup, the sexy undies had all been about? Leading up to his taking them off her, kissing her body, running his fingers though her hair, making her sweat from the intensity of their coming together?

      Sex with Lance.

      Lance, who did everything perfectly.

      He looked perfect.

      Danced perfectly.

      Doctored perfectly.

      Made love perfectly?

      That was the question.

      She gulped and had to fight to keep her eyes on the road and off the man driving his car toward her house. He hadn’t looked at her and seemed to have no desire to make small talk, which she appreciated. He was as lost in his thoughts as she was.

      What was he thinking?

      About sex? With her?

      Sometimes she wondered why he even bothered. He’d been asking her out for weeks before she’d agreed to go to the Christmas show at the community center. Why hadn’t he just moved on to someone else who was more agreeable?

      Ha. She was agreeable tonight. She was practically throwing herself at him.

      When he’d realized what she’d meant, he’d taken her hand and, with a determined gleam in his eyes, had made a beeline for their coats, not stopping to chat with any of their coworkers and friends as they’d left.

      She took a deep breath.

      Lance asked, “Second thoughts?”

      She glanced toward him. “No, but I feel like a teenager sneaking off from a high school dance to mess around.”

      He wasn’t looking at her, but she’d swear Lance’s face paled, that his grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point his skin stretched white over his knuckles.

      When he didn’t comment, she asked, “You?”

      “No regrets, but we don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”

      “I’m sure.” He still looked way tenser than she felt a man on his way to getting what he’d been supposedly wanting for weeks should look. Which made her uneasy. Maybe they were talking too much and not having enough action.

      Maybe she was boring him with all her conversation.

      They were still another ten minutes from her house. What were they supposed to do during the drive?

      Then again, she wasn’t the one driving so the possibilities were only limited by her imagination.

      She’d always had a good imagination. A vivid imagination.

      She wiggled in the seat, enjoying the car’s seat warmers. “Nice seaters you’ve got here.”

      His gaze flicked her way. “Seaters?”

      “Seat heaters. Yours are awesome.” Seat belt still in place, she twisted as best she could toward him and wiggled her hips. “I’m feeling all toasty warm.”

      He kept his eyes on the road, but his throat worked and his fingers flexed along the steering wheel. “Things getting hot down there?”

      Yes, this was much better than their terse silence. This was fun. As fun as she wanted to make it.

      As fun as she could imagine it.

      With Lance her imagination was working overtime.

      Odd because even though the thought of sex with him made her nervous, she felt no hesitation in unbuttoning her coat and slipping her arms free, and running her palms down her waist, hips, thighs, letting her fingers tease her skirt hem.

      “Maybe. Give me your hand and I’ll let you check for yourself.”

      “McKenzie.” Her name came out as half plea, half groan. “I need to concentrate on the road. I don’t want to wreck.”

      “You won’t. I only need one hand. You keep your eyes on the road and your other hand on the steering wheel. No worries. I’ll take good care of you.”

      “You think I can touch your body and not look?” His voice sounded strained.

      She liked it that his voice sounded strained, that what she was doing was having a profound effect on him. “Can’t you?”

      “I’m not sure.” He sounded as if he really wasn’t.

      Which made McKenzie giddy inside. He wanted her. Really wanted her. She knew this, but seeing the reality of his desire was something more, was the cherry on top.

      “Let’s find out.” She reached for him and he let her pull his right hand to her thigh. “See, I have faith in your ability to let your fingers have some fun. You’ve got this.”

      “Fun? Is that what you call between your legs?”

      Excited from how much she could see he wanted her, she reached her free hand out and ran her fingers over his fly. “It had better be what I’m calling between your legs by morning.”

      “McKenzie.” This time her name was a tortured croak.

      She smiled, liking the hard fullness she brushed her fingertips over. That was going to be hers before the sun came up. Oh, yeah. He really was perfect.

      “You’re testing my willpower,” he ground out through gritted teeth when her fingers lingered, exploring what she’d found and become fascinated by.

      That made two of them. Her willpower was in a shambles. How she’d gone from teasing to totally turned on she wasn’t sure, but she had. So much so that she wiggled against the seat again, causing his hand to shift on her thigh and make goose bumps on her skin.

      “I have no doubt that you’ve never failed a test.” She placed her free hand over his and guided him beneath the hem of her dress.

      “There’s always a first.”

      “Not this time,” she told him, gliding his hand between her thighs to where she blazed hotly, and not from the car’s seat warmers.

      “You sure about that?”

      “Positive,” she assured him, “because if you lose your willpower we have to stop, and where’s the fun in that?”

      “Fun being where my fingers are?”

      “Exactly.” She shifted, bringing him into full contact with those itty-bitty panties she’d put on earlier.

      “If I get pulled over for speeding to get us home quicker?”

      She squeezed her buttocks together in a Kegel, pressing against his fingers. “Not sure how you’d explain to the officer why you were going so fast.”

      “I’d tell him to look in my passenger seat and he’d understand just fine.”

      For all his talk, the speedometer stayed at the speed limit, which she kind of liked. Safety mattered. Even when your passenger was seducing you. That he wasn’t gunning the engine of the sports car surprised her, though. She’d have bet money he’d be a speed demon behind the wheel, but she couldn’t think of a time she’d been in his car when he’d been going too fast or pulling any careless stunts.

      His