It was ours.
The second Nick leaned down and muttered, “Let’s go,” a shiver raced through me—part anticipation, part adrenaline. I gripped his hand tighter as we moved through the crowd, the cameras, the chaos. But it didn’t feel chaotic with him. It felt like tunnel vision. Like the world shrank down to just his body brushing against mine, his presence pulling me deeper into whatever this reckless, exhilarating thing between us had become.
By the time we reached his car, my pulse was thrumming. He slid into the driver’s seat like he owned the night, and I buckled in fast, the air between us thick with everything we hadn’t said.
The engine hummed low; the rumble matching the buzz under my skin as he pulled away from the lights, the noise, the eyes. Streetlamps blurred past the window like streaks of gold and shadow. When he turned off the main road, the quiet pressed in. Trees framed the street like a secret, hiding us from everything but each other.
Then—suddenly—he pulled over, cut the engine, and turned to me.
The heat inside the car didn’t come from the vents.
“You were a distraction tonight,” he said, voice gravel over velvet.
The hum of the engine faded into the background, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. Just me and him—no noise, no chaos, just the way Nick looked at me like I was the only thing tethering him to earth.
“In a good way?” I asked, my voice soft, breathless. I was already too warm, already anticipating whatever came next.
He leaned in, and the air thickened, dense with everything unsaid. “You, in my number? Screaming for me like that?” His lips brushed my jaw. “All I could think about was getting back to you.” A shiver slid down my spine as he pressed a slow kiss to my neck, his breath ghosting across my skin like a promise. “I couldn’t stop picturing you… on your knees.”
Heat flared in my cheeks, but I didn’t shrink from it. I leaned into the weight of his words, that deep, possessive edge that always made my heart pound harder. That made me feel wanted in a way I never had before.
Without thinking, I shifted toward him, my hand sliding over to his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath my touch—strong, coiled, and completely mine right now. There was no fear. Only want. Only need.
“Then let me help you focus,” I whispered, fingers trailing slowly upward, teasing. The quiet click of his belt buckle felt deafening in the charged silence.
His breath caught. Just barely. And it made me bold.
He caught my hand, not to stop me, just to pause me. Like he wanted to savor this, wanted me to. “You know this is dangerous,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear.
I smiled, slow and unapologetic. “That’s why it’s fun.”
His eyes darkened, something primal flaring in them. “Fun doesn’t begin to cover it.”
I leaned in again, close enough that our noses nearly touched, our breath mingling. My fingers dipped under the waistband of his pants—testing limits neither of us planned to keep. He exhaled sharply when I touched him, and it sent a thrill through me, knowing I could unravel someone like him.
The windows fogged. The tension wrapped around us like velvet and static. I felt wild. Brave. His.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice low and rough, the command in it softened by the rasp of desire.
I met his gaze, pulse drumming in my throat. “I want you to show me,” I whispered, “exactly what you imagined.”
And then I gave him the kind of smile that said I want it too.
Nick’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile—the kind that made my breath catch and my body tighten in anticipation. He leaned back slightly, like he was savoring the moment, weighing how far we’d take this. How far I’d let him. The glow from the streetlights cut through the fogged-up windows in fractured streaks, painting us in gold and shadow.
“God help me,” he muttered, and then his mouth was on mine again—wild, hungry, devastating. The kiss stole everything from me: breath, thought, control. It burned through my veins like fire laced with adrenaline, like I’d just stepped into something I couldn’t come back from.
And I didn’t want to.
His hands were everywhere—claiming, guiding, coaxing more from me with every touch. All those doubts, those whispers from earlier, the fear of being judged—they vanished. All I could feel was him—the way he touched me like I was his center of gravity. Like nothing else existed but this pull between us.
My fingers found the hem of his shirt, sliding underneath to feel the warm, hard lines of his stomach. His kiss deepened, grew sharper, rougher—like he needed this to survive. And God, maybe I did too. Maybe I’d needed something to break me open and put me back together as something braver.
I wasn’t timid now. I was reckless. Wanting. My body pressed closer, my hands more daring, as the heat between us bloomed into something feral.
I wanted him to lose control. I wanted to feel what it meant to be wanted without apology. I wanted to give in, just for once, without looking over my shoulder.
He groaned into my mouth, and it was the kind of sound that curled heat low in my belly. I tugged him closer—wordless permission in the way I kissed him back. I didn’t care about the world beyond this car. Not the whispers. Not the headlines. Not the cost.
