Shaking his head, he blew out a harsh breath, forcing his concentration on the road and not the woman sitting in his passenger seat. But of course, he still kept stealing looks.
Pretty brown hair that looked soft to the touch. Long, thick eyelashes. Rosebud lips slightly parted. Creamy skin. Nice tits—come on, he was a man; he’d checked out her rack multiple times—and a nipped-in waist. Decent legs. She wasn’t tall, so she didn’t have those long, sexy legs like her good friend Delilah, but he couldn’t complain. From what he remembered, she had a nice ass.
Great body, fiery attitude, smart mouth—what more could he ask for? He’d bet money she was wild in bed. Well. Maybe she wasn’t wild in bed for anyone else, but he could probably help her unleash her inner vixen or whatever the hell women called it.
Tate frowned. Her inner vixen? He’d had a beer and a half if that, and he was thinking like a complete idiot. He blamed it on the woman. He blamed it on his lusty thoughts, which were doing him no favors since he couldn’t act on shit. Not tonight, probably not ever, because he couldn’t risk attempting anything with Wren Gallagher. She already bagged on him enough about his supposed man-whorish ways. She definitely had relationship material written all over her, and he didn’t do that sort of thing.
Ever.
She shifted in her seat, murmuring something unintelligible. He tilted his head toward her, trying to make out the words she said, but it sounded like a whole bunch of nothing.
Until he heard her drop his name amid all the other words he couldn’t quite understand.
Tate frowned, clenching the steering wheel hard. No way did she just say his name in her sleep. He must’ve heard her wrong. Unless she was dreaming of kicking his ass—entirely possible—he doubted she thought of him ever. Certainly not while she was in dreamland.
But no. She said it again. Clear as day, followed by a sexy murmur that piqued his curiosity. Along with other parts of his body . . .
“What are you dreaming about over there?” he asked out loud, wanting to come out of his skin when she answered him.
“You.”
He jerked the steering wheel to the right and hit the brakes, skidding across the road before he came to a full stop in front of someone’s driveway. Studying her, he saw that her eyes were still closed, her body limp, a very satisfied smile curling her lush lips. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms above her head, her smile growing, her eyes remaining closed. Her shoulders lifted, her breasts jiggling with the movement, and he practically had to shove his tongue back into his mouth, he was so mesmerized.
“Really?” he asked quietly as he shifted the vehicle into Park and turned so he was practically facing her. “Are you fucking with me, Gallagher?”
“Appropriate choice of words.” She laughed, this throaty, sexy sound emanating from her like nothing he’d ever heard before. His cock strained against his fly and he reached down to adjust himself, wondering at Wren’s transformation.
She’s asleep, asshole. That explains her sudden transformation.
Yeah. He needed to remember that. She was sleeping. And probably dreaming—though it was interesting, the possibility of Wren dreaming about him. But how could he believe what she was telling him if she was half-asleep?
“Wren?” He actually said her real name instead of calling her Sparrow or Robin or whatever. He wasn’t playing games any longer. But did he want her to wake up and realize her mistakes? Or keep sleeping and say things she wouldn’t normally say when she was awake and lucid?
“Mmm-hmm?” She turned her head, her lids lifting to reveal those deep blue eyes. They looked hazy. She wasn’t all there. He knew it.
Reaching out, he touched her cheek with just his fingertips. “You awake?”
“Oh, yeah.” Her voice had this breathy quality that went straight to his dick. “I like it when you touch me.”
Jeeeee-sus. He went completely still before he dropped his hand from her face. Man, he was in some serious trouble here if all she had to do was drop a few simple words and he was ready to tear her clothes off.
“Are we home yet?” She smiled and closed her eyes, snuggling her cheek against the seat. “I’m so tired. My head is spinning.”
“Right. Let’s get you home,” he said, determination filling him as he put the car in gear and pulled back out onto the road.
He’d take her home, get her safely inside, and leave. Get out of there before he was tempted to do something epically stupid.
Like kiss her.
Chapter Three
A DEEP, RUMBLY voice sounded close to Wren’s ear, encouraging her to wake up. But she didn’t want to. It was nice, this dream she was having. In it, Tate was being really sweet and looking at her like he wanted to do something obscenely inappropriate to her. And she wanted him to do something obscenely inappropriate, especially if it involved taking their clothes off and lots of kissing and rubbing and touching.
That had to be the alcohol talking.
Her head was spinning. She was super tired and . . . oh my God, did Tate just scoop her up in his arms and haul her out of the car? Yes, he did. He was holding her close to his hard chest, his thick muscled arms banded around her as he turned away from the vehicle, the cool night air rushing over her skin and making her shiver. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his shoulder.
God, he smelled amazing, but that wasn’t a revelation. The skin of his neck was hot. And so smooth. She wanted to kiss him right there, right at the spot where she could feel his pulse throb beneath her lips.