Page 113

But that simply wouldn’t do.

My hands went to her hips, sinking in, dragging her downward until the juncture of her thighs dropped down against my straining desire.

The whimper that escaped her had my hips bucking against her, dragging a ragged moan from somewhere deep inside.

My hand tracked up her spine, then grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

It was her lips that claimed mine. Then kissed me like she meant to brand me with it.

Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t mind bearing her mark.

The moment her lips parted for me, I was there—tongue stroking, teeth grazing.

I forced my hips to stay still, to follow her lead.

It wasn’t long before she grew impatient waiting, before she sank down a little lower. Her ragged moan was muffled by my lips.

My fingers slid up, sifting into her hair, tightening, curling, then tugging.

“I want to hear you,” I told her as she pulled back to relieve the ache on her scalp. “I want to see you, too.” My free hand moved out, teasing across her swollen lower lip. Then, when she hesitated, uncertain, I said, “Let me watch you fall apart.”

A soft little mewling sound escaped her at that as her hips did an involuntary rock against me.

That was all she needed, though.

The desire took over, making her rock. Slowly at first, experimentally, maybe still a little unsure of herself.

But with each passing moment, her movements got faster, harder, more demanding.

The friction had my own need for release ratcheting up as her soft cries became loud moans, filling my ears, filling the car.

My hips rocked up to meet hers as she got closer and closer, needing more friction, more pressure to get her there.

Her hips rolled.

Mine rocked.

Then she was there, splintering apart, her breath breaking like shards of glass, her eyes on me the whole time.

My hands grabbed her hips, holding them still as I rocked against her, dragging out her pleasure, then finding my own with a dizzying intensity that had my forehead falling to her shoulder.

Maggie’s body folded into me, her face turning into my throat, her breath warm on my skin.

I could have stayed just like that for a lifetime or two, her softness surrounding me, her scent all over me.

It was Maggie who slowly started to tense, to straighten.

I prepared myself for her to climb off me, to fall into the seat, to put up her walls again, and pretend that nothing happened.

Meanwhile, my whole world felt tilted off its familiar axis. After so many years of life, I thought I knew exactly where I stood. She made the ground beneath me feel as if it suddenly shifted.

But she didn’t move away.

She pulled back, her face a surprising mask of seriousness. Enough that my fingers pressed the parallel lines between her brows, smoothing them out.

What could she possibly be so serious about at that moment?

Her head tilted, leaning into the touch, like some part of her was craving comfort.