I lean back into him—just a little at first. He responds with a quiet exhale against my hair, his chest rising with mine, like he’s relieved I’m closer.
That’s when my eyes fall shut.
I melt into his arms before I can talk myself out of it. He doesn’t tighten his grip. His hands move in slow, careful caresses along my arms, like he’s grounding us both. The safety of it hits me so hard my throat tightens.
I’ve never felt this way before.
And the realization—that I trust him, that I want him this close—terrifies me more than anything else tonight.
I swallow hard.Focus, girl.
The roar of the engines snaps me back to reality, and I twist around to Lewis, draping my arms over his shoulders. I can sense him trying to catch my eye, but my gaze drifts over his shoulder instead. Three cars have appeared, and the crowd is running wild.
Here we go…
I’m doing my best to stay expressionless, until a familiar sound hits me with a surge of adrenaline.
I shuffle to the right, still not flinching, still not meeting Lewis’s gaze. The throbbing is louder now, the cheers and whistles ratcheting up as the fourth car swings into view.Bull’s-eye.
The Dodge. It’s right there. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
Lewis freezes. He didn’t even have to look up. Of course he didn’t—he would recognize that sound anywhere. I glance up at him, and we stand there in silence together. There’s a strange light in his eyes, and though I’m silently urging him to stay calm, I can feel himslowly turning to face the crowd. When his gaze lands on his precious car, he lets out a pained moan. And that’s when the driver steps out of the Dodge, all swagger and flex.Asshole!I don’t recognize the guy—which means there’s one suspect we can cross off the list.
“Lewis, wait… Keep it together,” I warn.
He can’t even talk. Relief and rage flicker over his face, his breath ragged in my ear.
If he can’t get his shit together, we’re both fucked.
“Lewis!” I hiss, clasping his face in my hands. “Look at me! Fuckinglookat me!”
I pull him into me, but he won’t meet my gaze.He’s too busy staring down the kids pawing at the Dodge, and I can feel his pulse pounding through his T-shirt.
“You promised you’d stick to the plan…”
“I’m gonna fuck those guys up. One by one. Every single one of them.”
“You won’t be fucking anyone up,” I sigh. “Quit staring, and focus on me. The only thing you’re fucking up right now is the plan.”
My hands are still on his cheeks, and I can feel his jaw clench under my palms.
I don’t know whether dancing up against him like that has messed with my head or whether it’s the high-pressure situation, or what. But for some reason I shuffle forward and stand on my tiptoes, crushing my lips into his, praying this might be enough to tug him back to his senses. And I think it just worked. His chest heaves as he gasps against my mouth. It takes every drop of self-control I have to step back, letting my arms fall to my sides, caught in his gaze. He’s still mad, the anger sharp and electric, his breathing so rough it quickens my own. And yet, there’s something stunned in his expression now.
“What the hell was that?”
Oh, nothing—just the kind of quick emergency kiss that makes a girl weak in the knees, that’s all.
“A way of getting your attention,” I try. “Feeling better now?”
He’s still so close, his eyes sparkling in the darkness, brimming with something I can’t read.
Just as I’m about to ask him if he’s pulled himself back together, it’s his turn to seize my face, urgent and unrestrained. My body reacts faster than my mind—my mouth opens at the brush of his, instinctively welcoming his tongue. This kiss has nothing to do with the last one. It’s chaotic, ravenous. It feels stripped of restraint.
I know Lewis is pouring every ounce of his tension into me, releasing weeks—maybe months—of restraint and frustration, but I don’t care. I’ve fantasized about this moment too many times to deny myself now. I’ve wanted him like this for too long. It doesn’t matter that this is so the wrong place and time—there’s no way I’m denying myself now.
His hands are on my ass before I even realize mine are knotted in his hair, clinging to him like I might fall apart if I let go. He presses me into him, chasing contact where I want it the most, and I give in completely, no longer trying to regulate myself. He uses his body to coax mine into an arch, as if he needs me closer still, as if closeness could ever be enough. I give in, bucking against his hands as he clasps me tighter.
His tongue moves with sharp, desperate insistence—deep, searching, claiming. I lose my footing in the onslaught, my thoughts dissolving into a dizzy rush of want and… relief.
