She’d explained all about Ben and Edna and Marge with the papers, where one might or might not have been a marriage certificate. She should have read what she was signing. Ash should have read what he was signing. Ben and Edna should have noticed the mistake. This was a disaster.
What do you want me to do?
Forest was stuck in the middle of an ocean. There was nothing he could do, not that he’d let that stop him.
Nothing.
She’d have to sort things out in the morning, call and find out what had happened.
This is serious.
I know.
We’ll see about an annulment. Don’t do anything stupid.
Ash’s scowl deepened, his fingers drumming in time to the beat of a Metallica song blaring out of the speakers, while his eyes focused intently forward.
Was this their first fight?
Her words had hurt him. What she didn’t understand was why he wasn’t as freaked out as she was. He had a lot to lose from an unwanted marriage.
Eyes closed, she blew out a breath. She reached out and touched his arm, shocked when he flinched. “I’m sorry.”
For the first time, he ignored her soft words.
She turned the music down. “Ash, I said I was sorry.” Her words bounced around the inside of the vehicle, sounding overly loud and overly empty.
His jaw clamped down, and his fingers gripped harder on the steering wheel. He signaled a lane change and moved the car into the passing lane, guiding them past a string of eighteen-wheelers, while keeping his silence.
She skimmed his bicep with a flutter of her fingers, a featherlight touch, but he gave no reaction.
He merged back into the right lane, and the lights from the semitruck behind them illuminated the interior of their car.
“I’m tired of driving,” he announced. “There’s an exit ten miles ahead. We can get a couple of rooms there.”
A couple of rooms? What happened to sharing a bed? What happened to having sex?
They’d known each other barely three days, yet she could already read his tells. Seeing his lips pressed into a thin line told her everything about the direction of his thoughts.
This mess needed to be fixed, and she only knew one way to do that. She edged over in her seat and stretched to cup his groin.
He jumped, and the car swerved. “What the fuck?”
She stroked his cock and then squeezed him with her hand. He hardened under her touch.
“Fuck. You want to get in a wreck?”
“I’m apologizing.”
“With your hand on my dick?” He tugged on her wrist, but she refused to move. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“You might want to keep both hands on the wheel,” she said, unbuckling and stretching over the armrest.
Within moments, she liberated his swollen cock from the confines of his jeans. He groaned as she kissed the tip. The car swerved as she wrapped her lips around him, licking at the drop of pre-cum forming on his slit.
He tugged on her hair. “Apology accepted. Now, sit the fuck up before I wreck. As much as I like what you’re doing?—”
She silenced him with a lick from root to crown. He gasped and jerked his hips.
