She made a face, signaling it was clear she didn’t believe me.
I grabbed the steering wheel, hauled myself upright in the seat, and even though it was murder on my back, I twisted to lean over her. Until my face was only inches away from her beautiful one. She stared up at me with wide eyes that were the same blue as Lake Michigan on a summer day.
“Not your fault,” I repeated. “But this,” I dipped my head so my lips could graze hers, “what I’m doing now? This is your fault.”
22
LAUREL
Jason drew me up,so I was sitting, his hands sifting through my hair as he kissed me, and everything outside of him evaporated. The kiss deepened, layer after layer, fueled by the emotional rollercoaster we’d been through.
Was he as greedy for a release as I was? It seemed like it.
It had been a long time since I’d made out in a car, and with the gearshift wedged uncomfortably between us, I remembered why. He placed a hand on my hip, but it didn’t stay there long. It skimmed under the hem of my shirt, his fingertips tracing a few inches up my spine, drawing the shirt up with it.
It could have been fifty degrees below zero outside, but it was unbearably hot inside the car, in his embrace.
I was almost panting when I pulled back. “We have to stop.”
“What?” His fingers brushed the clasp of my bra.
“Any second now you’re going to come to your senses and tell me what a bad idea this is. I’m doing it for you.” My hand bristled on the stubble dotting his jaw.
“No, you’re not.”
His kiss was untamed and intense, and every subtle move of his lips on mine was a promise that he wanted me. His tongue filled my mouth, possessing it, taking me toward the edge then drawing back from it.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“No.” It was barely a hint of a word, but he heard me loud and clear.
His eyes gave nothing away about what was going on behind them. “You want your mind quiet?”
I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I nodded slowly.
His eyes went warm before he leaned in and whispered against my lips. “I can do that.”
The fingertips beneath my shirt trailed down, abandoning what might have been his original goal as his kiss became urgent. His hand drifted down farther until he set it on my thigh, the heat of his palm soaking in through my jeans.
He took a measured breath, hesitating as if preparing to cross a line.
Then he crossed it by sliding his hand to the inside, wedging it between my legs.
Oh, my God.
My mouth fell open, but not out of shock. It was to pull air into my body. I had to fight for each breath as his hand moved, touching me where he had created a dull ache. All thought drained from my mind except for the one he sharpened the focus on as he rubbed me through the fabric of my jeans.
Fuck, I wanted him, and that desire was so great, I worried I’d be crushed beneath it.
His gaze locked on mine, judging my response, like he anticipated me pushing his hand away. But, no. I wasn’t going to do that. Heat spread through my body, lighting me up. My gaze dropped to his hand between my thighs. It moved faster, pressed harder, each stroke of his touch brought more pleasure than the last.
The grind of his fingers against the seam at the juncture of my legs made me breathless and boneless. His mouth teased me with his tongue and his teeth, and I moaned, answering him withthe same effort. I was desperate for the connection, for freedom from the tension.
For him and only him.
I clutched at the soft fabric of his shirt, and even though it was freezing outside, I wanted it gone. My hands went up beneath it, exploring the warm, smooth skin they found there.
But I didn’t get a chance to help him out of his shirt. He eased me down onto my back on the reclined seat, and, as he leaned over, a strange expression crossed his face. What was he thinking about?
