“I am more into furious, right now,” he mutters, voice dry, but I catch the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips, he tries to smother. “You promised to behave at the wheel. Instead, I am bracing for impact at every turn.”
“Oh, please! I obey all the speed limits—well, barely.” My laughter spills out as I press the pedal a little more, and the car seems to grin with me.
“Barely, yes!” He shakes his head, finally letting his mouth curve into a grin. “We’ll barely make it alive if you drive like this all the way to Chicago.”
“Mr. Marshall,” I mock, putting extra weight on the title, “I requested a test drive with your incredible, ridiculously sexy car, and you granted my request. That’s exactly what I’m doing—testing the car.”
I flick my eyes to him, grinning. “Its options. And… limits.”
He exhales, long-suffering.
“I invoke temporary memory loss. Can I have my car back, please?”
But his eyes betray him—dark, glowing with amusement, with something more. With the joy of watching me.
“Nope, not yet.” I switch lanes smoothly, letting the car glide, then accelerate, the engine purring like a satisfied predator. “I am having too much fun.”
That’s when his hand leaves the armrest and finds my thigh, large and warm through the thin fabric of my dress. His fingers flex gently—a quiet tether. His voice is softer now, steady as his touch.
“I missed seeing you like this—wild, smiling, alive.”
I turn just enough to catch his eyes, his words sinking into me.
“I missed it, too.” My voice cracks on the truth.
And I realize it’s been so long since I felt this—not being afraid, not worrying. Just freedom. Reckless, laughing freedom. The kind I only ever felt with him.
I grip the wheel tighter, because it’s not just the car I’m driving—it’s the moment.
I enjoy the driving and the road stretching ahead. Always did.
I enjoy his hand on my thigh. Him. Us.
I enjoy me. Being me again.
But as the highway stretches on, a darker thought pricks sharp at the edge of my joy.
What comes next?
Isn’t this too fast?
* * *
Dorian
I watch her walk ahead of me, hips swaying, her body moving with that unconscious grace that turns even the simplest step into a dance. The elevator doors gleam in front of her, but all I see is the echo of her smile behind thewheel earlier, wind tangling her hair, laughter bursting free like music. My chest tightens with the memory.
I would have let her drive across the whole damn country if it meant keeping that smile on her face.
After the little Mexican place she spotted on the way, she handed me back the keys.
“I need a change of perspective,”she said, eyes glowing.“I want to watch you this time.”
Now, in the lobby, she glances back at me, her lips curved in that half-teasing way that makes my blood stir.
“Top floor, I imagine?”
“Yes.” My voice is steady as I shift the bags, but inside I’m anything but.
