Her forehead dropped against mine for one second, and I felt her breath break against my mouth. “You are so damn…”
“What?”
She kissed me instead of answering, and I smiled into it because that told me enough.
Then I slipped two fingers inside her, and the smile almost went right out of me.
She was wet and hot, gripping me so tight her whole body jerked before I had even started moving.
“Fuck.”
That was all she had at first, and I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I did. Talia always had a thought ready. A line. A look. A way of making the room feel like she had measured it and found it amusing.
But this?
This was her body telling the truth before her mouth could dress it up.
I held her close with one arm around her back and my fingers buried deep in that slick heat while my mouth moved from one nipple to the other. She started rocking over my hand, slow at first, then with less patience, her hips finding their rhythm in my lap like she had forgotten the city existed outside those tinted windows.
I curled my fingers and felt her body give me the answer before she did. There it was. That softer, swollen place inside her, a little rougher beneath my fingertips, so sensitive her thighs tightened around my hand the second I touched it right.
Her gasp came sharp enough to make my dick throb.
“There?” I asked against her skin.
She nodded too fast. “Yes. Right there.Shit, Micah.”
I kept my fingers in her and brought my thumb to her clit. Slow circles first, then firmer when I felt how hard she was fighting the fall. She was panting now, one hand in my hair, the other braced at my shoulder, riding my fingers with that dressbunched at her waist and my jeans still between us like the thinnest kind of mercy.
Joe’s “Love Scene” was still low in the speakers.
The windows had started fogging at the edges.
Her breasts were bare in the dim light, her skin warm under my mouth, her pussy so wet around my fingers I could hear it every time she moved.
My dick was so hard it hurt.
I kept telling myself to hold it together.
She deserved more than the front seat of my truck and a dark lot behind a building because we had lost the ability to act civilized for ten minutes. She deserved a bed. A room. Time. Intention. The kind of first time a man remembered how to make last because the woman underneath him mattered beyond how badly he wanted inside her.
And I did want inside her.
Bad.
Deep.
To the point of losing every bit of good sense my mama had prayed over me.
But the line mattered because she mattered, because whatever this was between us had already started feeling too rare to treat carelessly. So I held it, kept my focus on her, and sucked her nipple back into my mouth while I fingered her harder.
The sound she made nearly ended me.
Her pussy grabbed at my fingers every time I pushed in. Her hips got sloppier. Her breath broke open. By the time I lifted my mouth to her throat and kissed there, she was shaking in my arms.
“Come on,” I whispered against her skin. “Let it go.”
She did.
