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“I should have told you right away… you look really good, Win,” Case says. And the nickname makes me flush head to toe.Get a grip, Winnie. It’s not the first time he’s called you that.
But never like this. Not in that low, grumbly way that makes him sound like he just woke up. And then he’s dragging his gaze extra slowly from my curve-hugging boot-cut jeans and cropped snow-white tank top. I stick my hands under my thighs to keep from covering the tiny slice of exposed midriff. They’re not the fanciest duds, but I was going for “casually hot.” Garrett’s words, not mine.
Again. Why are my siblings better at this than I am?
God. What if they aren’t? Who takes fashion advice from a ten-year-old Mensa candidate?
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Case thinks it’s hot.Clearly.He can barely keep his eyes on the road. He brought you flowers and he’s wearing cowboy boots and he’s playing your favorite songs.You’re not this much of an idiot. Buck up, Sutton.
“Pull over, please,” I command, concentrating on keeping the breathlessness out of my voice.
Case doesn’t hesitate, turning down the next dirt road and pulling off onto a wide gravel shoulder.
He spins to me in his seat, the low, evening sunlight painting his handsome face. “Are you okay? Did I freak you out? Was it the flow—”
I’m already flinging off my seat belt and lunging across the center console, cutting him off with my lips.
It’s probably not pretty, but I make up for it with enthusiasm and, I don’t know, graceless horniness? This boy has flipped me inside out these past months, and all I want to do is kiss him until he knows exactly what that feels like. What he’s done to me. I want to steal the breath from his lungs and inject fire into his veins. I want to disintegrate into him. I want our atoms to smash together until there’s nothing left but Us—capitalU.
Case grips me tighter, his tongue slipping past my willing lips and twisting with mine in a way that’s anything but graceless. It’s intoxicating and stokes something inside of me that leaves me frustrated at the distance between us. He must be, too, because suddenly he’s dragging me across his lap and into the driver’s seat.
Okay, then.
I straddle him, and his fingers trace my sides, up, up, nearlythere, to where I long for his hands to find me before maddeningly sliding back down and pressing against that expanse of bare skin at the small of my back. There’s not a whole lot of room to maneuver between his lap and the steering wheel, and that’s probably for the best. Just enough space to press my body against him and lose myself in his taste and the feel of him, strong and solid beneath me. In his small panting breaths against my lips. In the ache low in my belly.
Eventually, he pulls back, brushing my hair off my forehead.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper once my breathing calms to normal levels.
He chuckles low, and it tickles against my throat before he drops his head to my collarbone and takes several breaths.
Finally, he straightens so his eyes are level with mine. “Are you really sorry?”
I shake my head. “Not really. That was a lie. Unless you are…”
“I’m definitely not,” he says. “I’ve wanted to do that for months.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “You have?” I squeak.
His hands gently lift me off his lap and nudge me back to my seat.
“I can’t concentrate with you, um… It’s…” His chin sinks to his chest again, and he closes his eyes, taking more breaths. I crack open a couple of windows, and he laughs.
“Good idea. I need more oxygen in my brain.”
I squirm a little in my seat and take a deep breath. “Me, too.”
“Youkissed me,” he says.
“I did,” I confirm. “You’re sure it was okay? I kinda attacked you.”
He turns his head to look at me. “You kinda did. I’ve been killing myself trying to come up with smooth ways to orchestrate a move, and you…” He trails off, smiling and shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. “That was probably the single hottest thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life. So yeah. Plenty okay. Feel free to do it again whenever the mood strikes.”
“Just to confirm,” I say, before I lose my courage. “Did you see that as a ‘friends kiss’ or, like, more?”
He quirks a brow. “What did you see that as?”
I lick my lips, and he watches the movement. I hold back my smirk. “I don’t kiss my friends like that.”
