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Chapter Sixteen
The car was dead silent, except for their too fast breathing. Not panting from exertion, but fast and shallow, thick with anticipation.
Darcy didn’t know how she’d made it through dinner without attacking him. She was on fire.
The tension felt as though the air between them waited to explode.
She’d never felt anything like this. Not even back then when they’d been together.
It was like all civility had been stripped away, leaving behind nothing but raw, aching need.
With one hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles white from his tight grip, he placed his open palm on her bare leg.
She jumped, before sliding back into her seat like melted butter.
He squeezed her thighs. “Open.”
She didn’t even hesitate. The fabric of her dress stretched, and he slid his fingers up her leg.
The drag, the press of his hand, the feel of his skin against hers an exquisite tease.
She moaned, arched.
His grip tightened on her inner thigh as a low rumble sounded in the car. His hand moved higher, higher.
She closed her eyes, exhaling in a harsh breath. Splaying her legs wider. Wanting him to touch her.
His fingers slipped into her panties and played over her slick, swollen flesh.
“So wet, Darce.” He stroked over her clit. “So fucking wet.”
She clutched the handle hanging next to the window and rocked into his touch.
“All through dinner I thought about this. Thought about how wet you would be.” He circled the hard nub and sensation exploded over her. “How my cock would feel sliding inside you.”
She tightened her hold. “Griffin.”
He slid his fingers inside her welcoming body. Pumping once, twice. “You’re drenching my fingers.”
His thumb rubbed a path. He was driving her so crazy.
“God, Griff. Stop.” She was panting now. “Please stop. I’m going to come.”
“I know.” He thrust harder.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to. I want to wait.”
He growled, slowing his pace to stave off her impending orgasm. “Until what?”
She groaned. She was going to die. He was going to kill her. “Until you’re fucking me.”
“This is not going to be a civilized affair.”
“Good.” She couldn’t stand it any longer; she sat up and leaned over, trailing over the line of his jaw. “Civilized is overrated.”
He turned the corner, his fingers sliding out from her panties, and trailed her wetness over her thighs. “We need to stop or I’m going to end up pulling over and pounding into you.”
“Fine by me.” She scraped her teeth over his neck, and his groan vibrated along her lips.
