Page 113 of Forever Relentless

I parked, and he drove into the spot beside me. I kept the engine running as Noah turned off Dustin’s car and got out. I sat there, breathless, as he opened the passenger door and slid in.

“Are we parking?” I’d wanted to sound funny, sarcastic even. Instead, I sounded like I was panting, like it was the best idea ever.

He turned to look at me. “If I said I wanted to fuck you in the car, what would you say?”

“I’d say I’m too old to be screwing in the back seat. I have a bed at home.”

He smiled widely, and I hated myself for never thinking before I spoke. “Who mentioned the back seat?”

My laugh was short. “Well, you aren’t fitting over here, mister.”

My seat belt was off. The armrest was up, and I was lifted out of my seat and was suddenly on his lap.

“Who said I was moving?” he whispered against my lips.

“How did you . . . ?” I looked over at the driver’s seat and back at him. “How was that even possible?”

His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Experience.”

I should have been appalled that he basically told me these were his moves and he’d used them plenty of times. Instead, I felt a thrill of excitement.

“Well, it paid off.” I sat back and looked at him. When he pressed the button on the side of his chair and the seat flattened out, I yelped in surprise, my hands on his chest, stopping myself from crashing onto him, while he rumbled with laughter beneath me.

“Some warning next time,” I scolded.

Noah’s hand caught my chin, sliding around my throat, and fingers settling at the base of my neck. Slow. Deliberate. Giving me every chance to move.

“Next time? Next time we’ll be in your bed.”

He pulled me toward him and kissed me, and I leaned into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My hands wrapped around his shoulders as he drew me closer, and I settled against his chest as the kiss deepened.

I pulled my head back slightly. “I’m not fucking you in the car like a horny sixteen-year-old.”

“Okay.” His mouth caught mine. “Fuck me in the car like a horny twenty-four-year-old.”

He swallowed my shout of protest as his mouth claimed mine again. His kiss wasn’t gentle. Not rough either — just immediate. The kind of kiss that came from holding back too long. His lips were warm and soft, and for a second, I went completely still in his arms.

Then I was kissing him back.

My fingers tightened in the fabric of his hoodie as I leaned into him, shifting slightly on his lap. I felt the movement through every nerve in my body.

Both of his hands slid into my hair, and without thinking, I tilted my head so he could deepen the kiss. He made a quiet sound against my mouth — half surprise, half something else — and it went straight through me.

The windows had already fogged slightly from the warmth inside the car. Outside, the parking lot lights hummed, distant and irrelevant.

I pulled back just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his.

“You’re trouble,” I whispered.

His thumb brushed along my jaw, still holding me close.

“You’re the one on top of me,” he reminded me easily.

My eyes searched his for a moment, and he looked back at me steadily, with no doubt in his gaze.

He pulled me back to his lips as he kissed me again, slower this time, even more deliberate.

It wasn’t rushed now. Not like it had been. His mouth moved against mine like he had all the time in the world, like he was learning the shape of my mouth instead of just claiming it. The heat from his body seeped through my clothes where I sat across his lap, his hands still threaded in my hair, gripping just enough to make my pulse jump.