He kisses me like he's drowning and I'm air. Hard. Demanding. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and claims every corner, every secret, every moan I can't contain. I kiss him back with equal ferocity, my fingers tangling in his silver hair and pulling hard enough to make him groan.
His hand finds its way beneath my skirt, shoving my panties aside. I gasp as his fingers sink into me, two at once, stretching and filling while his thumb presses hard against my clit.
"Come for me, my little rose." The command is rough against my ear. "Right here. Right now. Give me your sweetness."
I should be embarrassed. We're in a parked car on a public street. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see the fogged windows and know exactly what's happening inside.
But I don't care. I can't care. Not when his fingers are curling inside me and his thumb is circling my clit and his mouth is hot against my neck, sucking a mark into my skin that I'll wear tomorrow like a brand.
The orgasm slams into me without warning. I shatter around his fingers, my whole body convulsing as I bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. He works me through it, relentless, until I'm shaking and gasping and completely undone.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, and I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.
"Perfect," he rasps.
Before I can respond, he's lifting me off his lap and settling me back into the passenger seat. His movements are tender now, careful, like I'm something fragile he's afraid of breaking. He buckles my seatbelt and presses a kiss to my temple before turning his attention to the road.
The drive back to Redthorne is a blur of city lights and lingering tremors. Drake keeps his hand on my thigh the entire time, warm and grounding. I lean my head against the window and try to process what just happened. What keeps happening between us.
When the car pulls into the underground garage, I'm still floating somewhere between satisfied and desperate for more.
Drake rounds the car and opens my door, helping me out on legs that still haven't steadied. His arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me to his side as he guides me toward the private elevator tucked into the back corner of the garage. The brushed gold doors slide open at his approach, and he pulls me inside, pressing me against his chest as the car begins to rise.
I melt into him, my cheek against his heart, his chin resting on the top of my head. The steady thump beneath my ear grounds me in a way nothing else has in years. For a moment, everything is perfect. Quiet. Safe.
Then his phone rings.
Drake sighs, the sound rumbling through his chest as he fishes the device from his pocket.
"What?"
The voice on the other end is muffled, but I recognize Luca's cadence even through the tiny speaker.
"Tomorrow," Drake says, his arm tightening around me. "Whatever it is, it can wait."
More muffled words. Urgent this time.
Drake's jaw tightens. "Luca, I don't give a damn about?—"
He stops. Listens. I watch his expression shift from irritation to resignation, and disappointment curls through my chest.
"Fine. Ten minutes." He ends the call and looks down at me, something like regret softening his features. "The shipping manifests I reviewed this morning. Luca left them on my desk for signature, but they have to go out tonight or we will lose the window."
I settle my hands on his chest, the feel of his taut pec beneath my palm only serves to keep the live wires of my libido cranked. "It's okay." I try to mean it. "Business doesn't stop because we..."
I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Because I made you come in my car?" His voice drops to a growl that makes my thighs clench. He tips my chin up and pushes my glasses into place with a gentle push.
"Business can go to hell. But this particular contract has a midnight deadline, and Luca will never let me hear the end of it if I miss it."
The elevator stops and the doors slide open onto the executive floor. Drake keeps his hand on my lower back as we walk through the darkened hallways, the building empty and silent around us. Our footsteps echo against the marble floors, and every shadow seems to hold its breath as we pass.
His office is exactly as we left it an hour ago. Our empty food containers are still on the desk. Drake crosses to the desk and flips through the stack of papers Luca left, his pen scratching across the signature lines with efficient strokes.
"Wait here," he says, gathering the documents. "I'll take these to Luca's office. Two minutes."
He disappears through the door, and I'm left alone in the dim glow of the city lights.
