I drove.
Turned at the next corner.
Half a block later, I pulled behind a darkened building where the streetlights fell off and the rest of the city seemed to mindits own business. The lot was quiet. Empty enough. Tucked away just enough to make what we were about to do feel possible, which was dangerous in itself.
The truck had barely stopped before I was reaching for her.
She came without hesitation.
One second, she was in her seat. The next, she was in my lap, knees bracketing my hips, mouth on mine like she had been holding that back since dinner. I kissed her hard enough to feel her gasp against my mouth, one hand at the back of her neck, the other dragging her closer by the waist until the heat of her settled right where I was aching for it.
“Talia,” I breathed against her lips.
She answered by kissing me harder.
That did something to me. The certainty of it. The way she moved like she knew what she wanted and had finally quit asking her better sense for permission.
I had wanted women before. Desired them. Missed them in the shallow, physical way a man could miss a body once he knew what it did for him.
This was different.
Too fast, maybe. Too much, probably. But there was a rightness in the way her mouth fit mine, in the way her hips settled over me, in the way her fingers dug into my shirt like she had been looking for somewhere to put all that control and had chosen me.
It scared me a little, and yet, I still wanted more anyway.
My hand slid up her back, found the opening in that bronze dress, and met bare, smooth skin. She shivered against me, and that little tremor went straight through my chest, down my stomach, and settled mean behind my zipper.
I pulled the top of her dress down.
The sight of her breasts spilling free in the dark nearly took my head off.
Her nipples were already tight, pretty and deep brown, and I got one in my mouth before I had enough sense to do anything noble. She moaned and rolled against me, slow at first, then again, her hips finding the hard line of my dick through my jeans and using it.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Her hand went to the back of my head. Fingers in my hair. Holding me there while I sucked her deeper, while her body rocked over mine and the whole truck filled with heat, music, and the sound of her trying not to come apart too loudly.
My free hand slipped between us, beneath her dress and over the soft inside of her thigh. She opened for me before I asked, trusting me with that small, silent invitation, and it almost ended what little sense I had left. I found the edge of her panties, pushed them aside, and touched her.
Wet.
So wet my fingers slid through her with no resistance, and my whole body went still for half a second because feeling it was worse than imagining it.
“Talia.”
Her breath caught. “Micah.”
I looked down between us, at my hand disappearing under bronze fabric, then back up at her face. Her eyes were heavy now, dark and bright at the same time, her mouth still swollen from kissing me.
“You been like this?” I asked.
Her hips moved against my hand. “Don’t ask me that.”
I pressed the pad of my finger over her clit, slow enough to watch the answer move through her body.
She gasped.
“Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “You have.”
