His hands are flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Like the only thing stopping him from grabbing me is the thin shred of control he has left. Veins bulge beneath his skin, his pulse visible in the cord of his neck, like something caged inside him is pounding to get out.
He doesn’t look at me like I’m fragile. He looks at me like I’m fire.
And I can feel that stare all over my body. My limbs ache, but I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or from the heat coiling low in my stomach from the way he is looking at me.
No words. Just hunger. Just pride. Just raw, blistering heat. The kind that gets under your skin and makes you ache until you do something about it.
I crawl onto his lap without thinking, like I have done a thousand times before.
His arms snap around me the second I move. One locks around my waist like a vice, the other curls up the back of my neck, hand threading into my hair and holding me there. His grip isn’t rough. It’s possessive. Like if anyone tries to take me from him, they will lose the arm they reach with.
My knees bracket his thighs. My body settles over his, and the blood between us smears instantly.
I kiss him.
Just tongue and breath and need. Just teeth and urgency and the ache of surviving. I kiss him because I don’t know what else to do with the way my body buzzes. I kiss him because I need to feel something that isn’t fear or rage. I kiss him because he has watched me kill and not once flinched.
Because he understands.
He kisses me back like he has been waiting for permission to break. His mouth is hot, lips bruising mine, tongue sliding past them as his fingers dig into my hip. His breath is ragged. I can feel how close he is to losing control completely.
The SUV roars over gravel, lurching through a sharp turn as we speed through the trees. Beau is yelling something from the front seat. Travis curses under his breath, something about being an accomplice to murder, about blood on the seats, about needing therapy.
None of it matters.
Seth’s mouth is on mine, and I am still high onthe kill.
He kisses me harder and messier. His teeth catch my bottom lip and pull, and I moan into his mouth, nails digging into the nape of his neck. His tongue slides against mine in rhythm with the grind of my hips over his lap.
That's when I feel it.
The thick, hot press of him straining against his pants. He is already hard. His cock pulses through the thin barrier of the fabric, the heat of it unmistakable. I grind down again, slower this time, dragging friction right along the length of him.
He groans into my mouth then again when he tears away and lowers his lips to my throat. His tongue drags over my pulse slowly, followed by teeth, just enough to make me gasp. His grip on my ass tightens like the urge to fuck me is crawling under his skin, ripping him apart from the inside.
“Please,” Travis groans from the front seat, twisting halfway around with one arm still hooked on the wheel. “Please don’t fuck in this car. I’m already on the run with you both. I’m already traumatized. Let’s not stack it.”
Seth doesn’t look up. Doesn’t pause. Doesn’t give a single fuck.
He growls against my skin, mouth still on my neck. “You’re about to be a dead man if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
My head drops back with a laugh that is part shock, part high, part fuck-it.
My blood still races. My thighs are slick with sweat and heat and leftover adrenaline. My face is smeared with dried blood. My lips are swollen from the kiss and from the aftermath of the kill. And I don’t care about any of it.
“Okay, okay. We’ll wait.”
“Jesus,” Travis mutters, throwing his hand up. “Brooke, you still have blood on your clothes. Chunks. You have literal chunks. This is unsanitary. Seth, I’m begging you. Wait until she showers, or until I’m out of the car.”
Beau doesn’t even turn his head. He smirks, voice calm and amused from the passenger seat. “Let ’em have their victory lap, Trav.”
Seth’s hand slides up the back of my spine, pushing beneath the hem of my top. His palm flattens over my skin, fingers splayed, tracing the curve of my spine. He doesn’t stop until his fingertips reach the bottom edge of my bra.
I shiver. Every nerve ending goes tight and hot and ready.
His breath hits my ear.
“I’m not waiting long.”
