Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel by Ally Bishop

While he circles the block, I slip inside our apartment to check my phone in private.
    I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. And I already miss that little sigh you make when I’m inside you.
    Despite the heat rising in my face, my insides melt. And I do something I’ve never done before: I sext.
    Hm. Well, your cock was a lovely surprise this morning.
    If my cheeks weren’t already flaming from his message, they would be now.
    Any chance I can offer a repeat performance tomorrow? Surely last night deserves an encore.
    I bite the inside of my lip, start to respond, but then shove my phone in the bowl of apples on the table when Noah comes in the door. I pretend as though I’ve been cleaning up in the kitchen.
    “I’m going to bed—I’m beat.”
    “I bet,” I say nonchalantly. “You were great tonight. Really.”
    He grins, his handsome face haggard with exhaustion. “Thanks. I have my moments.” But the topic is too sensitive to feel comfortable, and he disappears upstairs.
    I dig my phone out of the fruit bowl.
    What were you thinking?
    It’s seconds before he responds.
    What if I picked you up in the morning and surprised you with our destination? Would you be able to stay overnight?
    I snort. Who wouldn’t want to be whisked away to a mysterious location for hot sex? Of course, there is a tiny voice in my head that reminds me that I don’t know Ian all that well. But I ignore it in favor of my sex drive, which seems to be in overdrive the last few days.
    I could probably arrange that. What time?

    Ian shows up in a small Audi, shiny and dark. It’s long before my brother will be awake, so I take the moment to enjoy our kiss on the sidewalk, the feel of Ian’s strong arms around me enough to make me want to drag him into the house and tackle him on the couch. But the supple leather and seat heaters beckon, and I’m toasty as we head out of the city.
    “Do I get to know where we’re going?”
    He flashes me a smile. “When we get there.” He reaches over and takes my hand, our fingers meshing easily.
    I can’t get over how natural this feels. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way with anyone so quickly. And I keep reminding myself, I don’t really know him. And what about his illustrious reputation in the gossip news about being a playboy? I’m pretty sure it’s Mick Jeffries who’s the player, but if we’re known by our friends…
    “So tell me about you.”
    I chuckle. “I was about to ask the same question.”
    “We have an hour. You first.”
    I wore leggings and a long tunic sweater, and the warmth of the leather seeps into my thighs. “I think I’ve told you everything.” I ponder for a moment. “I love cupcakes, but I don’t like cake.”
    He laughs and squeezes my fingers. “That’s definitely important to know.”
    “Your turn. One thing you love, and one thing you don’t.”
    He ponders, then answers. “Early mornings, and alarms. I love the sunrise, but I hate the abominable beeping of my clock.” He mock shivers.
    I nod in agreement. “One of my favorite things to get rid of when Noah and I started doing Elementary full-time.”
    “I’m very jealous.”
    “I love coffee, but I hate sweet creamers.”
    His grin turns bashful. “Glad I didn’t add any to your coffee on Thursday evening.”
    “Let me guess: you love it?”
    “Yep. The sweeter, the better.”
    “Ew! That’s it. Take me home. I can’t date you,” I tease, crossing my arms.
    He laughs but taps my knee with a finger. “Let’s see if you can make sense out of this one: I love horses—my stepfather has a small horse farm—but I’ve never been on one.”
    “Scared?”
    “Cautious. And to be fair, I was in every sport I could be growing up so there wasn’t much time. He’s determined that I’ll ride one of his, but I’ve managed to evade his offers thus far.”
    I grin and pat his hand with my free one. “I promise: it’s not that scary. I practically grew up on