I brush my thumb over her mouth, tracing the curve I shouldn’t be memorizing. “Was that okay?”
Her smile is small and bright enough to undo me. “More than okay.”
The air shifts again, heavier now. She’s so close that the warmth from her skin seeps into my palms. My restraint snaps, and I start to lean in again before I catch the look in her eyes.
Heat.
That’s what it is—pure, unfiltered heat rolling off her in waves that crash right into me.
I pull back just enough to search her face, but it’s already too late. The cab feels smaller, like we’ve sealed ourselves into some pocket of the world where nothing else exists. Her lips are parted, still glistening from where I touched them, and that scent of hers wraps around my throat like a noose I don’t want to escape.
This feels unreal. Like I’m watching it happen to someone else, some version of me that isn’t the sheriff with a badge and a code and a life that’s supposed to be straight lines and clear rules. But here I am, hand still cupping her jaw, thumb dragging slowly over her lower lip.
She’s looking at me like she sees right through my restraint, right to the Alpha clawing under my skin.
I shouldn’t.
Fuck, I really shouldn’t. But my other hand moves on its own, fingers hooking into the collar of her jacket, tugging her closer until she’s sliding across the seat. Not gentle—more like a drag, urgent and rough, pulling her right into my lap. She gasps, a soft sound that shoots straight to my cock, but she doesn’t resist.
Her knees part just enough to straddle me, her weight settling warm and light against my thighs.
She’s so small like this, folded into me, her body fitting like it was made for it. I could toss her around, pin her down, takeher apart piece by piece if I let myself. The thought hits hard, twisting with the wrongness of it all.
I’m the law in this town, the one who’s supposed to keep things in line, and now I’m here, in my car, with an Omega whose scent is driving me insane.
Why the fuck does she smell so good? It’s like she’s seeping into my lungs, making every breath a reminder of what I want to do to her.
I bury my face in her neck before I can talk myself out of it. My nose presses against the soft skin there, inhaling deep. Vanilla blooms sharp and sweet, mixed with the faint salt of her sweat from the night air. My teeth graze her pulse point, not biting, just feeling it jump under my mouth.
She arches into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and a low growl rumbles out of my chest.
“Knox,” she whispers, her voice breathy, fingers tightening.
I lift my head, capturing her mouth again. This kiss isn’t brief—it’s hungry, my tongue pushing past her lips to taste her fully. She meets me, eager, her tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my hips buck up instinctively. We grind together, her core pressing down on the growing bulge in my jeans.
Heat radiates through the fabric, her leggings thin enough that I can feel the outline of her pussy rubbing against my cock. It’s torture, the friction building as she rocks in my lap.
My hands roam, one sliding up her back under the jacket, fingers splaying wide over her spine. The other grips her hip, guiding her movements, pulling her down harder. She’s grinding now, deliberate circles that have me throbbing, my cock swelling heavy and insistent against her.
Fuck, she’s responsive—every shift of her body pulls a soft moan from her throat that vibrates into my mouth.
I break the kiss, panting against her lips. “Millie... this is?—”
Her hand slips down between us, bold and unhesitating, palming me through my jeans. I hiss, the pressure sending sparks up my spine. She pops the button, tugs the zipper down, and her fingers dive inside, wrapping around my cock through the thin barrier of my boxers. It’s rough, the fabric dragging, but her grip is firm.
“You’re so big,” she murmurs, eyes dark as she looks down at where her hand disappears into my pants.
I groan, head falling back against the seat. “Wait. I’ve never done something like this.”
She pauses, her strokes slowing, thumb circling the head where pre-cum is already soaking through. “Sex?”
I huff a laugh, despite the ache building low in my gut. “Cheeky. No. A one-night stand.”
Her lips curve, that small smile from before, but now it’s laced with heat. “Okay. Can I show you how it’s done?”
Before I can answer, her hand pushes my boxers aside, skin on skin now. Her palm slides over my length, hot and dry at first, then slick as she works me. But I’m not letting her have all the control.
My fingers hook into the waistband of her leggings, yanking them down just enough—over her ass, exposing the soft curve of her cheeks. No panties. Fuck.
