While I was still wondering what he meant by that, his hands gripped my waist and tugged me toward him. A surprised gasp slipped out of me. Half perched on the edge of my seat, half on his lap, with a gearshift digging into my outer thigh, Griffin’s lips slammed against mine.
Instantly I was on fire, returning his kiss as ifcarpe fucking diemwere inked across my forehead.
We picked up where we left off in my bedroom at the institute. His hands, my hands, they tried to be everywhere at once. I felt feverish with the need to explore his body the way only a lover could.
To claim him as mine.
All. Fucking. Mine.
When his mouth trailed down to my neck, I threw my head back and swallowed down a moan that was part panting whimper. “Griff …” I barely dared breathe, even now concerned with who might be listening and what it would mean if they realized Griffin and I were two hot seconds away from fucking right here in his car, spectators be damned.
He pulled me fully onto his lap, his lips dragging across my collarbones, a hand cupping my breast, rubbing across a nipple that strained to bust free of my bra so it could get where it belonged already—in his fucking mouth.
I heard voices outside that weren’t our friends. Opening my eyes took real effort, but when I saw Brady, Hunt, and Layla positioned around Clyde to block as much of the view through the windows as possible, I didn’t hesitate to straddle Griffin. The fit was tight, but ever so doable. I lowered myself onto Griffin’s groin, his dick hard through his jeans, and had to bite my lip to keep in the wanton moan that wanted to escape. My eyes rolled back for a moment as I ground on him, and he grunted roughly, bringing both hands to my breasts, his thumbs rubbing my nipples over two layers of fabric that felt as unwelcome as two hundred.
My core throbbed as I rubbed it up and down the length of his erection. When I ran my fingers through his hair, I tugged and lowered my lips to his ear to whisper, “Screw waiting. I want you inside me right this fucking second.”
This time, Griffin groaned louder than he probably should have. I had zero fucks to give.
He kissed my neck again, my ear, then sucked on my earlobe. There, his breath hot and tantalizing, he whispered, “You’re everything to me, Joss. I want you. I want it all.”
My core clenched. I brought my hand between us to his jeans, rubbing it over his hard dick.
He threw his head back onto the seat, his eyes clenched shut for a moment. A sweep of arriving headlights illuminated his face for several seconds, and I had to stop just to admire him—his full lips, his strong jawline, the dark scruff along it that made him look dangerous and entirely fucking edible.
Griffin said inside my mind—and also into our friends’ minds,fuck me.
Brady said, infiltrating what I was trying really hard to pretend was a private moment.
I said.
I lowered myself back onto his lap, rubbing myself against him.
His hands stilled my grinding hips, and with an infinitely gentle touch, he pulled my face down to his. With the barely-there lighting provided by headlights pointing away from us, his eyes were dark, glittering, possessive. “Later.” He flattened his palm between my breasts and pressed his forehead to mine. “Just you and me,” he breathed.
Both his hands moved to my ass. He squeezed, then slid them under my shirt and splayed his palms against my skin, pulling me close against his chest.
There, pressed together, with far too many clothes between us, we inhaled and exhaled, again and again and again, until our breathing slowed and calmed.
When his lips next found mine, their touch was gentle, a flutter. “You and me,” he whispered against them.
Wanting that more than anything else in the world, I nodded against him, where our foreheads still met.
His hot hands slid down my back, across my waist, and beneath the waistband of my jeans to squeeze my ass—my cheeks bare around a string of lace.
I jerked my gaze up to his. His eyes were still dark, still glittering, still possessive.
He gave me a cheeky grin and a wink that made me melt all over again. “I have a race to win before I claim my prize.”
As if I might not have understood what he was implying, after he pulled his hands free, he slapped my ass, then lifted me off him, guiding me to the passenger’s seat.
My own eyes wide, my skin flushed so that even I could feel its heat, I stared at him.
Even knowing it wasn’t the OG Clyde, he patted the steering wheel with open fondness, then winked at me again. “Come on, woman. Time to kick some ass.”
He gave me a final kiss on the lips, then rapped his knuckles on the window, and when Brady cleared it, he opened his door.
Feeling as though a force of nature had swept through the car—as ifhewere a force to be reckoned with—and knowing I would follow him to the ends of the Earth and beyond, I opened my own door.
