I gasp, my voice breaking as pressure coils tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, shattering through me. My body bows, every nerve alive and trembling.
All I can think about is him. His hands. His mouth. And how good it feels to finally be wanted like this.
“I know, love. I know.” His voice is a whisper against my throat—rough, reverent—right before his teeth graze my skin, gentle and claiming.
My hand moves on instinct, wrapping around him, and he groans—low and guttural—as his fingers tighten at my waist like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
“Sadie—fuck—”
I keep moving, chasing his breath, watching the way his jaw locks and his throat works when he swallows. The sound he makes isn’t just pleasure—it’s surrender.
He tenses, a shudder running through him, head falling back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to memorize the feeling.
And then—
Everything inside me splinters open, sharp and bright and endless. Like light flooding through cracks I didn’t know were there.
My eyes squeeze shut as the world blurs. The pressure snaps all at once, and I fall apart against him—every muscle pulled taut, every breath unraveling in his name. It’s too much. Too sharp. Too deep.Too good.
I tremble through it, helpless and breathless, my body melting into his.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, both hands steady at my hips—grounding me, holding me together.
A full minute passes before I can breathe again. His fingers slowly trace up and down my spine in a soft, soothing rhythm.
When I finally find words, my voice comes out a whisper. “Wow,” I breathe, leaning up to find his lips.
“Was that…too much?” he asks quietly, voice rough around the edges.
He reaches for a napkin from the console, cleaning up the mess he made—the messwemade together.
I shake my head, biting my lip. “No. No, I just never expected it to feel so…consuming.”
His expression shifts. His brow furrows, and his eyes drop to me, to the wreckage of us. My dress bunched at my hips. My torn tights. His jeans open and undone.
My own gaze follows, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of where I am. Of what I just did. Of how far this went, how fast.
A flicker of panic tightens my chest—not regret, exactly, just the sharp, disorienting thought that this is real. Of me straddlinga guy in his truck in a parking lot, our heavy breaths fogging up the glass.
Lane’s hands still at my waist. Not pulling me closer. Not pushing me away. Just there—waiting.
I swallow, my pulse skittering, and force myself to breathe through it.
He kisses along my jaw, then lower before he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me until I can feel his heartbeat against mine. The quiet hum of music fills the space. The song is softer now, slower.
I don’t notice I’m drifting until he traces slow circles on my back.
“We should probably head back,” he murmurs near my ear. “Lydia ordered me to return you in one piece, and on time to go to Lucky’s.”
I smile against his skin, kissing him once more because I can’t help it.
That familiar ache flares low in my belly as his hands find me again, as if neither of us is ready to let go.
For a second, I wonder if it would really be so wrong to just stay. To give in completely, right here, right now.
But deep down, I know I’m not ready for more—not like this.
Still, I don’t regret it.
