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My heart’s racing. Raelynn’s hand is still gripping my arm, threatening to cut off blood flow to my hand.
I hear her sharp intake of breaths even over the quiet radio.
“Maybe you should just stop here,” she says, not looking at me as she eases her grip and slides her hand off my arm.
I pull forward a little bit, slowly driving us onto the side of the road enough that we won’t block someone if they try to pass, though there’s no way anyone will be coming down this way after us.
I cut the engine and the radio dies. We’re left with the cicadas and the frogs and the crickets, and even those eventually fade into dull background noise as I focus on Raelynn unbuckling her seat belt and nervously tugging her hair behind her ears before she sneaks a glance over at me.
I don’t say a word, confused and enthralled to be here alone with her.
Is she about to tell me to get out so we can walk the rest of the way to the quarry? Are we here to talk?
Somehow I doubt it. She’s not saying a word as she looks back down at her hands and keeps on rubbing that damn nail.
I open my mouth, about to say her name and ask her what she’s thinking, but her left hand comes out and grabs hold of mine, and then she lifts it to place it gently on her leg, just above her knee. There’s no explanation to accompany it, no desires spoken aloud. Just her, pressing my hand down under hers so I can’t take it away.
I feel her thigh shaking. The subtle way her lips part when I tighten my grasp to let her know I won’t pull back even if she lets go.
She leans back and her head hits the seat. She tilts to look in my direction, meeting my gaze for only a fleeting moment before she loses the nerve and looks back down at my hand on her leg. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and I’m enamored by the sight until other parts of her win out. I skate my gaze down her smooth neck and collarbones, the small curves of her breasts visible in the slinky dress. They rise and fall with every heavy breath she takes, straining against the fabric.
She shifts her legs on the seat, and it’s subtle; they’re only an inch wider than they were before, but then she takes my hand and drags it up a little higher, just to the soft hem of her dress. It bunches up at the top of her thighs, and there’s no possible way to mistake what she’s doing. This silent plea might as well be encased in flashing neon lights.
“Birdie?” I whisper, scared to startle her.
Her blue eyes flash in the darkness when she looks up at me.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
I don’t breathe, don’t move, don’t blink—so scared to spook her and ruin this.
She shifts her head—up and down—a slow nod, and then another one, faster, more obvious.
I don’t hesitate. I lean across the center console and kiss her, give her back the vulnerability she’s just given me. Dragging me out here, putting my hand on her. God, she’s scared. She emits a little shocked whimper when my lips touch hers, and I pull back for a moment, worried I hurt her.
Her breath skates across my lips before she arches up off the seat and reaches for me again, pressing her lips tentatively back to mine. It’s the sweetest kiss, barely there at all, but I force myself to sit still and take it—this slow torture of Raelynn building her confidence. She turns her body toward me more and my hand curves around her thigh, tightening as she leans in and kisses me harder. It burns through my body, turning me on, making it so damn difficult to keep to my side of the car. Her tongue dips into my mouth, slow and seductive.
She leans into me and my other hand comes up to circle the back of her neck, tugging her closer. We kiss and we kiss, coming up for shallow breaths, crashing back together, my tongue touching hers. I feed off her little noises: whimpers and sighs and quiet groans.
Just like with everything so far, she’s the one to take it further. She twists her body up until she’s sitting on her knees on the passenger seat, then she leans over the center console as I kiss her, wrapping my arm around her waist and bunching her dress up as I tug her closer. We work together to pull her over onto my lap, and it’s clumsy work. Her long legs and my size don’t make it easy for us to fit on the seat together. She can barely settle her knees on either side of my hips as I keep kissing her. She’s pressing her chest to mine, raking her fingers through my hair as I take her bottom lip between my teeth and gently bite down. I release it and recapture her mouth as she tugs on my hair and kisses me back in a frenzy. Then she slowly lowers herself down onto my lap, covering me and rocking her hips so I have to reach down and grip her waist, slow her down, gather some strength. It all feels too good. It’s been too long, half a year since I’ve held a woman on my lap.
