Before she could reply, his hands were at her waist.
Firm. Certain.
He lifted her onto the hood like she weighed nothing. Her breath caught at the chill of metal beneath her, and the heat of him a moment later, settling between her thighs.
“Gideon—”
“I’m making my case,” he said, mouth brushing hers once, then again. Teasing. Tasting.
And then he kissed her.
No hesitation. No space. Just heat, and certainty, and the kind of control that didn’t ask.
His hands slipped beneath her coat, gliding up her sides, anchoring her like he couldn’t stand the distance. Not rough, but possessive.
She gasped, sharp and soft, gripping the lapels of his jacket like she needed leverage to stay upright. But upright was a lie. He had her, and they both knew it.
The scent of him wrapped around her, that familiar mix of heat and restraint—the whisper of smoke beneath skin.
He kissed her deeper. Hungrier. His mouth opened over hers with slow, dangerous purpose. Not coaxing. Claiming.
His tongue brushed hers, and the rest of the world dropped away.
Her thighs locked tighter around his hips. Her heels pressed into the curve of the Roadster, grasping for purchase, needing the anchor of steel while the rest of her came undone. Her hands slid under his coat, fingers finding heat and muscle and tension stretched to the edge. She opened to him on a sound she couldn’t contain, and he answered with a low growl that curled in her spine.
“Arden,” he said against her mouth—rough, reverent, barely controlled.
Her name landed like a vow.
His thumbs traced the barest edge of skin at her waist, and she arched into him, chasing contact. Wanting more. Needing it.
But not yet.
Not here.
This moment, against the gleaming hood of his very expensive car, with the city mere steps away, wasn’t about taking.
It was about promise.
When her body could echo everything her mouth hadn’t said yet.
He kissed her once more, slower this time. A drag. A vow.
When he pulled back, he didn’t step away.
He just looked at her.
And the look?
It said everything.
And Gideon?
He looked like a man who knew exactly how far she’d let him go.
And exactly how far he planned to take her.
“For the record,”he said, voice low and rough with satisfaction, “you never answered the question.”
