“Buckle,” a gruff voice says from the front seat.
“Noah?” Sawyer asks, her glassy eyes filled with hope.
Eden cups her face, the back of his hand brushing my chest in the process, and she instantly leans into his touch, his tenderness and proximity settling her.
With the way she’s so quickly comforted by him, I can’t find it in me to be pissed that he’s invading my personal space.
“Noah’s here, too, sweetheart,” he tells her. “He’s in the front seat. He’s going to get us home safely.”
“Home?” She frowns.
The urge to crack my neck and release some of this tension is strong, but there’s not enough room in this godforsaken back seat to stretch the way my body craves. So I settle for pulling my girl closer and grinding my molars together.
“Noah’s going to take us back to the orchard,” Eden clarifies.
She locks up, her wide green eyes searching my face.
“It’s fine,” I tell her before she can ask, though it takes effort to choke out the words. “We’ll all go there tonight.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I let out a low breath, hopeful that she’ll settle now. But instead of relaxing, she clings to me tighter.
“Okay,” she hiccups. She keeps nodding, as if stuck on autopilot, her focus going hazy and shifting from me to Eden. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”
Dread percolates in my gut.
The professor shifts closer, cupping her cheeks in his hands and studying her eyes, his face a mask of concern.
“Are we finally ready?” Noah asks.
“No. Something’s not right,” Eden replies.
Sawyer is trembling in my arms, muttering to herself as fresh tears pool in her eyes.
“Turn the heat up,” I suggest. “She’s shaking.”
“Assuming she took some form of MDMA, she should be hot, not cold,” Mercer says. His words are harsh, yet they aren’t filled with any kind of malice.
“I—I need…” Sawyer trails off, dropping her head to my chest.
My anxiety flares, but I suck in a breath, steadying myself. “What do you need, baby?”
“I need to feel you,” she says, her round, pleading eyes framed by thick sooty lashes locked on me. “I need to know you’re real.”
My heart thumps heavily.
“Please, Ty. Let me feel you.”
She moves quickly, reaching between our bodies and stroking me through my sweatpants.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my visceral reaction to her causing me to jolt, then bite back a moan. “We can’t.” I shake my head. “We’re not alone, mon ange. You're on something. We’re in Noah’s truck, still in the driveway of the party.”
“Please, Ty,” she begs, grinding against my lap while the soft fabric of her crop top brushes my chest. "I know what I want. You. And them."
I say nothing. I don’t even dare to breathe.
Eyes shuttered, I turn my head and search for a distraction from the way her widespread thighs grind against my cock.
