Riley's hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer despite the console between them. Grant's other hand found her waist, thumb tracing circles through her sweater that made her shiver.
"Riley—"
"Don't stop."
"I'm not planning on it."
He pulled her closer, and Riley climbed over the console without thinking, settling into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. Grant's hands slid up her back, and Riley gasped against his mouth.
Better. This was so much better.
The windows started to fog. Grant's mouth found her neck, and Riley's head fell back, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"We're in your driveway," Grant murmured against her skin.
"I know."
"Your parents are inside."
"I know that too."
"This is a bad idea."
"The worst." Riley pulled his face back to hers. "Don't care."
Grant kissed her harder, deeper, his hands gripping her hips. Riley rolled against him, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her mouth.
This was insane. They were in a truck. In her parents' driveway. Making out like teenagers.
Riley didn't care about any of it.
She was pulling Grant's shirt free from his jeans when a bright light suddenly flooded the truck.
They both froze.
"What—" Riley started.
The light came from the porch. Grant squinted past her, and Riley twisted to look.
Her dad stood on the porch in his bathrobe, holding a massive flashlight, shining it directly at the truck.
"Oh my god," Riley breathed.
Grant started laughing—quiet at first, then harder, his shoulders shaking.
"This isn't funny," Riley hissed, but she was grinning too, adrenaline and embarrassment making her giddy.
"Your dad has a spotlight."
"He has multiple spotlights. He's very prepared."
"I can see that."
Her dad made a "wrap it up" gesture with his free hand.
Riley scrambled off Grant's lap, trying to straighten her clothes, her face burning. "I have to go."
"Yeah, you really do."
