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“Not even Carter?”
“We only went out on one date,” I admit.
He seems surprised by that.
“Now I kind of feel stupid for getting worked up about him.”
I shrug. “It’s the uniform, it makes him seem more threatening than he is.”
He laughs and nods, turning out to look at the old water tower. “Maybe I should get one of those.”
My mind does the work for me and the image of Adam in a police uniform is nearly enough to short-circuit my brain. Suddenly, the car feels clammy. I want to roll down the window, but I can’t because I have no clue which button to press.
I turn to Adam and find that he’s been studying my profile. His eyes aren’t gemstones anymore, but they’re just as threatening.
“Should we go home?” he asks, bringing our clasped hands to his mouth and kissing the back of mine.
I shiver and shake my head. “Not yet.”
We should head back—we have perishables in the trunk—but I like sitting in his car with him. I unlatch my seatbelt and turn to face him. There’s a small console separating us, but nothing else.
“Do you want to head back?” I ask, and it sounds like an invitation.
His gaze drags down, pausing on my lips for a moment before he trails down my neck and chest. He’s studying my dress—no, he’s studying my body beneath the fabric. His smile is slow to spread, a little haunting…sexual. “No.”
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He wraps his hand around my neck and tugs me closer. Our lips meet over the center console, and at first, it’s harmless, just a little peck. His smile presses against mine. We laugh and his hand gets tangled in my hair even more. He’s holding me there as I kiss him again, and this time, I add heat. My teeth bite down on his bottom lip and his hand tightens. His kiss devours me.
I pull back and our eyes meet. A silent challenge passes between us.
Here? he asks with a tilt of his head.
Now, I say with small smirk.
There are inconveniences about having sex with Adam in a car. When he tugs me over the center console, I lose my heels and my elbow bangs against the steering wheel. My knees barely fit on either side of his hips, and when his hands trail up my inner thighs, I arch my back so hard that I hit the horn. It blares so loud I jump out of my seat, and Adam is laughing and tugging me down again, kissing me. The space is awkward, but Adam isn’t. His hands know exactly how to hike up my dress so my light blue panties are revealed. They’re such a soft, delicate material against his jeans. I grind my hips back and forth as he kisses me, and the sensation is torturous for us both.
One hand falls to my hip, and he’s tilting and timing our movements as if he’s inside me, as if he’s showing me how good it will be in a few minutes. Maybe next time we’ll be fully naked in a bed, with soft candlelight and a sexy playlist in the background, but right now we’re in the cramped space of his front seat and Adam is sliding my panties to the side so his middle finger can sink inside me. My head falls to his shoulder and I pant, actually pant, like I can’t get enough air. The windows are foggy and Texas is too humid for this kind of activity. I’m sweating, and my heart is hammering hard. He slides a second finger inside and I bite down on his earlobe, whispering his name.
“Say it again,” he commands, and I do.
I whisper his name every time he drags his fingers out and sinks them back in slowly. Right when they’re so deep inside of me that I feel like I’m breaking in two, that’s when I say his name.
“Spread your legs,” he says, but he doesn’t wait for me to listen. His hands are on my thighs, spreading me like I’m an elastic band, and maybe my knees are digging into the door and the center console, and maybe he’s ripping my delicate blue panties—the pair I covet every time I find them tucked away in my drawer—but then his fingers are back on me, in me, and I don’t care about bruises or panties. I want what he’s offering.
“I’m so close,” I promise him, and his thumb swirls across my clit.
I’ve had first times with men before. They’re awkward and clunky, like a new pair of shoes you haven’t worn in yet, but this, Adam making me come with his fingers as I arch back and cry out into his silent car—there’s no room for anything but heat and passion. His mouth is on my neck, and the zipper of my dress is tugged down. My bra is blue too, and it belongs to a matching set that was pristine up until a few minutes ago. Adam notices and swears he’ll replace it for me, saying it against my breast as his lips close around my nipple. He could be promising me the Taj Mahal and I wouldn’t notice.
