I cup the back of her head and angle her closer and kiss her the way I’ve wanted to all day. Deep. Thorough. Claiming. She opens for me immediately, her tongue sliding against mine, and I groan into her mouth because she tastes exactly like I remembered, exactly like I dreamed, and I’m never going to get enough.
Her scent explodes around us. Honey and citrus going thick and slick, the unmistakable perfume of an omega who’s wet and wanting. It floods my senses, makes my cock twitch, makes my hands tighten on her hips hard enough to leave marks.
Good. I want to leave marks. I want everyone to know she’s?—
I force myself to slow down. We’re in a parking lot. In public. This is not the place.
But my body doesn’t care about appropriate. My body wants to press her against the car and grind against her until we’re both desperate. Wants to slide my hand under that green sweater and find out if her skin is as soft as I remember. Wants to?—
She hooks her leg around my calf and pulls me closer.
“Cara,” I manage against her lips.
“Yeah?”
“We’re in a parking lot.”
“I noticed.”
“Anyone could see.”
“Don’t care.” She rolls her hips forward, and the friction makes us both gasp. “Kiss me again.”
I kiss her again. Harder. She moans and her nails dig into my shoulders through my coat. I can feel the heat of her even through layers of clothing. Can smell how badly she wants this—wants me—and it’s making my head spin.
My hands slide down to her ass. I lift her slightly, pressing her back against the car, and she wraps around me like she was made for this. Like ten years didn’t happen. Like we’re eighteenagain, making out in the parking lot behind the movie theater, convinced we had forever.
We don’t have forever. I know that now.
But we have tonight. And right now, that’s enough.
“Lucas.” Her voice is strained, breathless. “We really have to stop.”
I pull back. Breathing hard. My forehead pressed against hers.
She’s flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed. Her hair is a mess from my hands. Her scent is so thick I can taste it on my tongue. I’m hard enough that it hurts, straining against my zipper, and I know she can feel it pressed against her hip.
“That was...” she starts.
“Yeah.”
“I meanreally...”
“Yeah.”
She laughs, breathless. “We’re very articulate for two people who work with words.”
“You work with words. I work with bodies.”
“That sounded dirtier than you meant it.”
“Did it?”
Her cheeks flush darker. “Lucas.”
I force myself to step back. Put space between us before I do something stupid like lift her onto the hood and finish what we started. “We should go.”
“Probably.”
