Read Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement) for Free Online

waist, his hands circling her thighs. He stroked his thumbs up the inside of her jeans.
    She shivered. “Then we’ll say goodbye. And you’ll find some other drunk girl to take up to your penthouse. And I’ll find someone else who has a fast car and doesn’t mind if I call him Shane.”
    He moved his hips between her thighs, a slight pulse that rocked her and the car. “I don’t mind when you call me Shane. How important is a fast car?”
    She cocked her head. “I’m thinking.”
    He pulsed again. “Are you?”
    Her hands curled and her lashes fluttered closed. She murmured, “I’m thinking about thinking.”
    “I’m thinking about how I’m going to get your pants off.”
    “I’m thinking about leaving all the thinking to you; you seem to have it covered.”
    “Good.” He popped the button on her jeans.
    She opened her eyes a crack. “If you’re going to do all the thinking, you’ll have to tell me what’s next.”
    He slid his hands under her bottom and boosted her up his chest. A small shriek flew from her mouth and her hands grabbed at his hair. He sat her on the roof of the car and rested his hand on her chest.
    He said, “Here’s what’s next.”

Three
    Brady pushed at Cassandra until she let go of his hair and lay back on her elbows. He pulled her zipper down and yanked at her jeans.
    She said, “Okay. I could like this.”
    She looked over to where the hill dropped off and the city spread out below them. “Maybe.”
    He climbed onto the car, leaning over her. She flung her arms out wide, grabbing at the car. “Is this roof going to hold the both of us?”
    He said, “I don’t like it.”
    “Yeah. I’m heading in that direction,” she said and he snorted.
    “I don’t like Sundays and Wednesdays. I want every night. For as long as this thing lasts, I want every night.”
    “That would be flattering if you didn’t want every night so you can be comatose for seven hours.”
    He was already addicted to sleeping next to her. To sleeping.
    He’d been yawning since Sunday.
    He hadn’t slept in six years; only taking an hour here, an hour there.
    One night of sleep and he couldn’t function anymore.
    Cassandra said, “Maybe it’s not me. Maybe any woman in your bed would do.”
    He shook his head. He’d had other women.
    It was her.
    She said, “Just how many sluts have you taken upstairs lately?”
    He ran a finger along her arm. “Only one.”
    She murmured, “I feel like I should get mad, but I’m leaving a butt print on the roof of your car. Sounds slutty to me, too.”
    Brady slid his zipper down and Cassandra said, “I swear, I hate men. I’m here breezing in the wind and all you have to do is pull down your zipper.”
    “There are women who hate men. You’re not one of them.”
    He flicked her nipple with his thumb, making it pucker, and she said, “Oh, I’m starting to hate you.”
    Her head tipped off the edge of the roof, her throat open and exposed.
    She muttered, “I hope to God I set the parking brake,” and Brady licked her neck.
    He looked past her, down the hill, and he whispered, “Don’t you want to?”
    She peeled one hand off the car to grab at him. “Only sometimes. And not today.”
    He lifted her butt, sliding into her. Her breath rushed out and Brady thought he didn’t really want to today, either.
    He said, “You’ll move into the penthouse.”
    She squeezed her legs tight around him, trapping him. “What?”
    “I’m tired of driving all over the place for a good night’s sleep when all I have to do is move you in.”
    She blinked.
    He stretched out on top of her and said, “Pool privileges are included.”
    “You want me to drive out there every night?”
    He nodded. “I want you to move in.”
    “It’s in Brentwood!”
    He circled his hips, cutting off her protest and making her loosen her thighs enough for him to maneuver.
    When she could breathe again, she said, “It’s an extra hour of driving, both ways. I don’t have two