That’s all it takes. His gaze darkens, searching mine one last time before he pulls me back in. His mouth finds mine again—hungrier this time, a little desperate—and I melt into him.
His breath hitches when my hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, and I can feel his heartbeat pounding wildly against my palm.
I’m deeply regretting wearing a corset right now. It’s pressing into my ribs and cutting off my air like a punishment for wanting this. For wanting to come undone beneath someone’s hands.
I didn’t plan this. Being tangled with a guy I barely know in the front seat of his truck.
My stomach drops and I freeze.
Oh my God.I hardly know him.
My hands falter and I break the kiss, pulling away, my breath catching like a sob I can’t quite swallow.
What the fuck am I doing?
Lane’s touch softens instantly, his thumb tracing my jaw as his brows knit with quiet concern.
“Sadie,” he says gently. “We can stop.”
I shake my head.
That’s the problem—Idon’t want to stop.
“What’s your last name?” I whisper.
He blinks, startled, then laughs—a low, beautiful sound that ripples through the quiet. The smile that follows is slower, warmer.
“Hartford,” he murmurs, still holding my face in his hands.
“Lane Hartford.”
He nods, the smile still lingering. “That’s me.”
I grab his collar and pull him in. Our lips meet again—slower—deeper. His hands grip my waist, like he doesn’t want to risk letting go. My fingers twist in his hair at the nape of his neck, and his breath catches again as I move against him, until all that’s left is the ache of wanting.
I tilt my head back, chasing the friction that builds low in my stomach. He meets me halfway, kissing me like heneedsto, like he’s starving for it just as much as I am.
His lips trail across mine, and the sound that escapes me is soft, raw, and unmistakably desperate.
The moment splinters with the dull thud of knuckles against the tinted glass.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re getting a whole lotta air, sucking face like that.”
Apparently not tinted enough.
I jolt, scrambling back over the console into the passenger seat, as heat curdles into humiliation. My pulse thrums in my throat and Lane mutters something under his breath before rolling the window down.
Landon stands there, smirking, an unlit cigarette tucked between his lips. He says something I can’t make out—everything’s muffled beneath the pounding in my ears.
“Sadie?” Lane’s voice cuts through softly, his hand resting on my arm.
“Hm?” My vision sharpens, the world snapping back into focus.
“You good to stay with Lane?” Landon asks. “We’re calling it a night. Rest of us are riding back with Emmett.”
I blink, glance between them, and nod. “I’m good.”
Lane’s thumb rubs small circles into my skin and Landon smirks, shaking his head as he walks away, lighting his cigarette.
