I shift, pressing my body against his, and Zach responds by pulling me closer. Before I know it, I’m half on top of him with our lower halves tangled in Zach’s old St. Michael’s blanket.
I feel his hips lift slightly to meet mine, and when I match it, I feel the groan at the back of his throat.
“Fuck, Honey,” he breathes against my mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
The cold night air brushes my skin as his palm glides higher. I tip my head back as he teases the edge of my lace panties, tracing the fabric slowly, deliberately, never quite giving me what I want. I rock against him, chasing his touch, but he just chuckles.
Me chasing him. I guess the tables have finally turned.
“Zach...” I whimper, nipping at his bottom lip.
His fingers finally slip under the lace, and he lightly strokes along my slit. He groans when he feels how wet I already am.
“All this for me?” He circles my clit once, twice, then pulls back to tease my entrance, dipping just the tip of one finger inside before retreating again. The slow, maddening rhythm has my thighs trembling around him.
“Zach...” I rock against his hand, chasing the friction.
He kisses down my neck, sucking at the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “I hate this stupid brace,” he breathes, voice rough. “I want both hands on you. Want to hold you open and—”
Headlights sweep across the truck bed.
We both freeze.
A sharp knock sounds against the side of the truck.
“Evening, folks,” a deep voice calls out. “This is stadium security. Y’all can’t be back here after hours.”
I yank the hem of the jersey dress down fast, my heart hammering at being caught. At least the blanket was there to hide anything.
Zach pulls his hand away, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he shifts me off his lap. His jaw is tight, his eyes still dark with frustration and lingering heat.
The security guard’s flashlight beam dances over us. He’s an older guy, probably in his fifties, with a tired but amused expression. “Zach Evans... figured that was you. Congratulations on the win tonight. But you know the rules—lot clears out after cleaning staff leaves.”
Zach runs his good hand down his face, clearly trying to will away his obvious arousal. “Yeah, man. Sorry. We were just... talking.”
“Talking,” the guard repeats, deadpan, glancing at my flushed cheeks and the way I’m still straddling Zach’s lap. “Sure looked like it. Look, I get it. But I gotta clear the lot. Take it somewhere else before I have to write a report.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing as pure embarrassment floods my face. Zach sighs heavily, then calls back, “We’re moving. Give us two minutes.”
The guard grunts and walks a respectful distance away, but doesn’t leave entirely.
Zach drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “Worst timing in the history of the universe.”
I kiss him quickly, still needy and throbbing from his touch.
“Where are you staying tonight?” he asks quiet enough that only I can hear. “I want to take you home.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “But I still live with Dax, and as much as I want to showyouhow much I've missed you, I don't particularly want him listening to me eat you out until you beg me to stop.”
I laugh and whack his chest lightly. He pulls me fully against him. “Mr. Evans, are you trying to imply that you're shy? After all those sessions at St. Michael's?”
He shrugs. “I prefer to say I'm selective. That ring tells everyone what they need to know. You're mine. I'm yours. No need to make you scream my name in public for them to figure it out anymore. Doesn't mean I'm not going to make you scream my name when we're alone, though.”
“How very mature of you.”
“Yeah, well, I've got a fiancée now,” he says with amusement. “It's about time I grew up. Granted, asking my fiancée where she's staying tonight doesn't exactly sound very mature.”
I laugh and drop my head back against his chest. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“If it’s to say you brought Chris, I’m going to kill him.”
