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He slanted her a surly look. “I know what a breast is.” His pale gray eyes seemed almost to glow in the moonlight.

She grinned up at him. “Do you know what to do with it?” She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.

Rai kissed her grin away and proved that he did, caressing and kneading, dragging whimpers out of her throat.

She ran her fingers up his strong, smooth arm, savoring his muscles moving as he touched her, slipping her hand under the sleeve of his shirt as far as she could.

He groaned into her mouth, then pulled back, eyes blazing.

“This is not convenient,” he growled, and then he was moving.

Poppy sat up, chasing him, but he didn’t move far, just slid off the trunk and around to face her, standing between her thighs and putting both hands back up her shirt.

She arched into his touch, shaking, hands flat against the cool metal of the car to support herself as he kissed down her throat.

It occurred to her dimly that they were technically in public, and maybe she should keep an eye out for unwelcome visitors—which could include some pretty wild wildlife, out this far—but oh god she didn’t care, she didn’t care one fucking bit, and instead she leaned forward, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up.

Rai withdrew and watched as she dragged the fabric over her face. His lips were on her sternum before she could see again, tiny sweet kisses moving downward, but as she wrestled her arms out of her tight sleeves, a faint, patronizing voice echoed in her head.

They’re not that small. I don’t mind .

She tensed instinctively, a wave of insecurity washing over her, and for a moment she couldn’t even breathe, just sat there with her arms bound over her head and her torso exposed to the night air and Rai’s sight as he kissed slowly down. She braced herself for judgment.

“Now I see,” he said cryptically, and then his hands were inside the cups of her bra, scooping her breasts out, his palms against her nipples, and the jolts of sensation galvanized her into dragging the shirt the rest of the way off just in time to see his lips finish their journey southwest to one pink bud.

She choked at the cool, damp rasp of his tongue, bringing a hand to his head, dimly aware that her shirt was still dangling from her wrist.

“Okay,” she gasped. “You win. Your plan is way devious.” She impatiently tossed the shirt aside, aiming for the trunk lid. She flung a bit too hard, and it slid across the smooth surface and dropped off the other edge. Oh, well. A sandy T-shirt never killed anybody.

He chuckled, sending ripples all through her.

“Have I earned another man award?” he murmured into her skin.

“Is it in the mail?” He kissed his way over to her other breast, fingers idly toying with the wet nipple he’d left behind.

His other hand had moved around to her shoulder blades, holding her up.

“We’re going to have a ceremony,” Poppy said, bringing her hands around to unbutton his shirt.

Fair was fair was oh god his chest was beautiful.

She spread the lapels wide to admire it.

“Podium and all.” She placed her hands flat on his pecs, which were smooth and firm, even more delicious than his wet shirt had promised, lean muscle more like a runner than a bodybuilder.

He growled in his throat at the contact, giving an extra intense suck at her breast before lifting his head and bringing his mouth to hers again.

He kissed her deeply, open-mouthed, tasting faintly of salt now, of sweat and rain and musk, and she stroked her hands around his waist to the small of his back to draw him closer, to bring that amazing chest against hers.

She moaned at the contact against her exposed breasts.

He murmured her name against her lips, again and again, hand sliding along her spine to the small of her back, and then he pressed her toward him, scooting her hips to the edge of the trunk lid, and two could play at that game—she slid her hands to his ass in his perfect tight jeans and pulled and then fuck he was pressed all along her body, his hard length grinding into her, denim against spandex, and he let out a harsh gasp, then something that sounded like an oath but in no language she knew, except for all she knew it was goddamn English because there wasn’t room in her brain for anything but the feel of him and the taste of him and the sound of his harsh panting breaths.

His forehead was pressed to hers, his eyes burning as they pulsed together, still with that same inexorable, unhurried pace Rai had clearly invented to torture her.

Her legs had wound around his thighs at some point, and she wanted to urge him on, faster, harder, but also god, she wanted this to go on forever, this heart-stopping friction that felt somehow more intimate than fucking not in spite of but because of the layers of fabric separating them.

Then Rai’s hands were stroking across her belly, and he looked down at her. “You are lovely,” he said softly.

You’d be perfect if you lost a little weight.

The voice was a little louder that time, and she recognized it, of course.

Fuck off , she told it and focused on Rai’s face, which held a myriad of expressions, none of them disappointment.

It was that can of worms, that fucking self-opening can of Brendan-worms trying to ruin her return to casual sex, and she wasn’t going to let it happen.

Except at the same time, she felt herself arching her back just a bit, trying to make her stomach look like she actually had time for crunches once in a while, letting her eyes drop to look at Rai’s body instead of her own.

Rai’s fingers dipped inside the waistband of her leggings then, stroking lower and lower.

“Look at me,” he said in that low growly voice of his, that voice that meant business, and her eyes flashed to his just as he made it to the elastic of her panties.

There was a question on his face, and she answered it with a sharp nod, and then his fingers delved lower, sliding down and down and, “Ah, you are flowing,” he said with deep satisfaction as he reached his destination.

A sound came from Poppy’s throat that was harsh and guttural and desperate, and she sank a hand into his hair and dragged his mouth to hers as he stroked through her wetness, doing god-knows-what, slow as molasses but sending jolts out along her legs and out her arms to her fingertips.

She stifled the next intrusive thought before it took full form, since Rai clearly didn’t have a problem with what he’d found, and hitched her hips into his touch.

She should be doing something for him, she vaguely thought, return the favor in some way, but he’d moved his hips back out of her reach and was utterly focused on her, eyes laughing at her as she writhed and moaned and thrust her hips toward him, urging him to touch her where she needed it most. She could tell by his wicked smile that he knew exactly what she wanted and was teasing her, and she heard herself growling, determined not to beg but also needing him, needing him, and then he stopped teasing and gave it to her, finger circling or flicking or god she didn’t even know what he was doing, just that it felt like nothing she had ever felt, nothing, nothing, and then her release rocketed through her, and a rough cry burst from her lips and Rai laughed as she quivered, kissing her forehead and her nose and her slack lips.

“Magnificent,” he whispered. “You are magnificent.”

When Poppy could move again, she shoved herself back to sitting, kissing Rai the whole way, and went for the fastening of his jeans.

You need to put some effort into it, said the awful, unwelcome voice from her past, but she wasn’t listening this time.

She wanted this, wanted Rai inside her, wanted to give him what he’d just gifted her.

“Please tell me you have protection,” she muttered between kisses.

“I will protect you from everything,” Rai avowed.

“Great,” Poppy said on a laugh. “Great. But I wasn’t talking about the damn coyotes.” Her hands went to his ass, feeling his pockets for a wallet. “I mean a condom.”

His eyes went wide with confusion. “A…what?”

No wallet, though she could feel the hard lump of his phone.

Maybe he’d left it in the car. “A condom,” she repeated.

“Birth control. I know lots of girls have IUDs nowadays, but even so, STDs still exist, and you’re a guy who knows how to find the…

Um, so you have to have a just-in-case Trojan tucked away, right?

” She looked at his face, and her laughter died.

He was still staring at her like she’d asked him for a unicorn. “I do not kn— I do not have a…condom.”

Poppy’s fingers froze halfway to Rai’s zipper. “You don’t… Where did you think your devious plan was going to end up?”

“I thought…” Rai gestured vaguely between them.

“Without any…”

The voice struck without warning. I knew I should have gotten you pregnant. Then there wouldn’t be any of this ‘leaving’ bullshit. The words that had sent the house of cards that had been Poppy’s marriage tumbling down—hell, set the damn cards on fire.

She pushed herself off the car without thinking, pushing past Rai and taking a few steps away. She stood there gasping, trying to calm her heart.

“Poppy,” Rai said from behind her. “What is wrong?”

“Apparently,” she said, trying for lightness, “I need more therapy.” She realized her breasts were still poking out at the desert and stuffed them back inside her bra before turning.

Rai was still looking at her, face stricken and confused, and she relaxed a little.

He’s not Brendan, she reminded herself. He probably just didn’t expect you to jump him on the second date.

“Look, I’m sure things are different down in Brazil, but I’m not interested in taking a chance at either a baby or syphilis. No offense.”