“No, but I have to act like I’m being wined and dined so that he doesn’t get suspicious.”
Boston’s eyes slowly find my face again. “I’m supposed to…not fuck you in my truck when you look like that?”
I blink, heat rising through my body. “You canabsolutelyfuck me in your truck.”
His brow furrows, hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Two weeks and you show up inthis, like I’m supposed to have restraint?”
I angle my head, recognizing the lust all over him. His eyes go dark when he wants me, just like they are now. My gaze darts down to his lap and he notices, but he doesn’t move to show me more or less of what he’s offering. I can’t see if he’s hard in the dark of the cab.
“I never asked you to restrain yourself.”
His eyes burn into my face for a second longer.
“Come here,” he orders and I’m across the cab in seconds. He hauls his seat back as I climb into his lap, my hands going to his jaw. I crush my mouth to his. I kiss him like I’ve been starved of him. There has been an emptiness without him in my life. Everything has felt hollow. I need to indulge.
His tongue slides into my mouth and I arch against his body. Can confirm, he’s hard. His hands drag down my back and glide along my thighs, trailing up the length of them and all the way back until his fingers slip slightly under my dress.
“I missed you,” I mumble against his mouth.
He leans his head against his seat, green eyes burning into mine through the darkness. His fingers trail upward. “Is that right? Should we see how much?”
I smile, loving that idea. His hands slide upward, deep under the fabric of my dress now, and then suddenly go still. His gaze darkens, head falling right back down to the seat. He groans when he finds no underwear blocking his path.
That might have also been part of the plan, right after the pink dress.
I hitch a breath, sitting back on his fingers, making him curse as I gently move my hips. His tongue wets his lips, eyes flickering to my face, and he nods curtly for me to continue. I move against him, still in the comfort of his lap.
One of Boston’s hands goes to my hip to keep me steady.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Atta girl.”
I force my eyes open, losing myself at the look on his face.
Headlights sweep past the window, and we both freeze with momentary panic. We’re on a public street. We’re not alone. This is the opposite of what you do if you want to keep something a secret. Especially if you’re famous and this entire city knows your name.
I fight a smile, reaching forward to wrap my arms around his neck. He laughs into the skin of my shoulder, withdrawing his hand from under my dress. He kisses my shoulder instead, then my neck, promising what will come later.
“Pink is your colour. Anyone ever tell you that?” he says gently against my skin.
I reach up to trace his lips with my thumb, shaking my head. “You’re the first.”
His eyes scan mine. “Wear a coat next time. It’s November.”
We manage to make it home without pulling over. The second we’re inside, our clothes are torn off our bodies, making a long trail to his bedroom. He crawls on top of me the moment we’re on the bed, his kisses hungry and desperate.
When he pushes inside me, I swear in his ear at rapid speed, making him chuckle in that deep, hearty way that he does. He holds the small of my waist as he fucks me, which is my favourite move of his, and his eyes burn into mine with each stroke.
I slide my legs out from around him and move them up to his shoulders. His grin turns blinding. I intertwine my feet around his neck, and that completely sets him off. He goes faster, deeper, harder until I’m screaming out incoherent thoughts and praising his name like he’s a god.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips slamming against mine. “I love listening to you.”
I blubber out something pathetic and he reaches around my neck and hauls me to his mouth, rewarding me with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that does nothing to calm me down. I practically whine into his mouth, my brow furrowed, our gazes connected.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says through his teeth. “That face will be my fucking undoing, I swear.”
I can’t help it, my mouth falls open, my brow furrows deeper, and I let out a disgruntled moan that sounds as desperate as I am to come.
“Fuck, Ari,” he grumbles, his stomach tightening. “You’re going to make me come.”
