The seat belt slips loose beneath my hand. I climb across the console, knees brushing his leg as I crawl into his lap, the heat of him dizzying.
His hands find me instantly—one sliding into my hair, the other anchoring my waist—and then he’s kissing me. Like he’s been starving for it.
It starts soft—curious, a question more than an answer.
But it deepens quickly, a slow-building storm that makes thought impossible. The taste of him, the sound of our breath, the hardthudof my heartbeat—it’s all a blur. My fingers clutch at his shirt, needing more, needing to be closer.
Desire thrums low in my belly, pulsing through every nerve as I shift in his lap, rolling my hips against the hard line beneath his jeans. He groans, head falling back against the headrest before crashing his mouth into mine again.
“I need to touch you,” he murmurs against my lips, voice wrecked and reverent. His hands slide from my hair to the base of my spine, steady and sure.
I kiss him harder, tasting the breath he exhales, and guide his hand between my legs—a silent yes.
He hesitates. Just for a second. Then his hand slips under my dress, rough fingertips trailing a slow fire up the inside of my thigh.
When he reaches the waistband of my tights, he curses under his breath, low and frustrated, and he fists them tightly.
The final barrier between us.
And then—he tears.
The rip of fabric splits through the silence, sharp and final as it gives way beneath his hands. I gasp, but his mouth finds mine before the breath escapes.
He doesn’t just kiss me. Heconsumesme.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, his hand at the back of my neck, pulling me closer until there’s nothing left between us but heat.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur, rough and low, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I shake my head before I can speak. “Please don’t stop.”
That unspools whatever restraint he had left, and his fingers slip beneath the ruined fabric. Slow, deliberate, and devastating. The first touch makes my whole body tremble.
I moan, the sound caught somewhere between surprise and surrender.
I’ve never known hunger like this. A need that swallows everything else.
He shifts in his seat, angling me closer, keeping his mouth on mine. His other hand slides up my back, anchoring me against his chest as his fingers move in slow, teasing circles.
I’m gasping now, moving without thinking, chasing the rhythm like it’s oxygen.
“Lane,” I breathe.“Please.”
A low groan vibrates in his chest, his forehead falling to my shoulder as his teeth graze my skin. The sting pulls a sound from me I didn’t know I could make.
My fingers fumble for his belt, clumsy and shaking, undoing the button and tugging at the zipper. His breath catches the second I wrap my hand around him.
“Fuck,”he breathes. “You’re going to ruin me.”
My lips trace a path along the column of his throat and his thumb presses harder, circling, until I can’t think anymore. My world narrows to that fragile point of contact—his breath, his voice, the way he moves against me.
His finger slips just inside me, barely there, and the world tilts. It’s too much and not enough all at once, my body instinctively tensing around him.
He stills. “Is this okay?” he whispers, lips brushing my collarbone.
I nod, then find my voice. “Yes.”
He moves again—slow, steady, coaxing the ache into something blinding, and it ignites something deep inside me. My hips lift to meet him. The pleasure builds and builds until I can’t hold it back anymore.
