She shifts once more, teeth still chattering, and I have to force myself to breathe through it—through the way her body presses far too close, through the way my cock hardens.
This is not the time for my body to betray me.
Eventually, she gives up.
Her movements slow, then stop altogether, and she eases back against my chest. My arms tighten instinctively, anchoring her there. Without thinking, my hand moves, rubbing her toned leg gently.
It doesn't feel wrong.
She doesn't pull away either. She doesn't tense. She just settles, fitting against me in a way that feels dangerously natural. I remain still, holding her steady, every nerve alive to her presence and the quiet intimacy of it.
It's quiet—too quiet. Just the steady sound of the rain on the roof and the slow rhythm of our breathing filled the space between us.
“Can you take your phone out of your pocket?” she asks softly, shifting again.
I lift a brow. “My phone?”
The moment stretches, then it clicks.
A low laugh slips out of me as she leans to the side, trying to get a proper look at my face. I take my cap off, push my hair back, and settle it again, watching her frown deepen with confusion.
“Not my phone, princess.”
Her eyes narrow first, suspicious or pissed that I called her princess again—they widen as realisation hits. She moves again, subtle but deliberate, like she's testing it.
I don't let her because I’m trying to be good, and what I want isn't what she needs right now.
It's also far from good.
My hands clamp gently around her hips, stopping her. “Don't; it's just a natural reaction to it being touched by a pretty girl.”
A very pretty girl.
She exhales, lips parting. “Elijah, you can't—”
I lift a finger and press it against her lips, smiling despite myself. “No more talking,” I murmur. “Let's get you warm and home before Sassy decides she hates me, and I embarrass myself.”
That earns me a quiet huff of laughter, but she moves again, just slightly, and Christ—it's been far too long. A few innocent movements, the curve of her settling against me, and my body is already betraying me.
She must feel it too and understand what I meant by embarrassing myself because she clears her throat and turns back toward the window, watching where rain streaks down the glass as if she’s suddenly very interested in the weather. I don’t call her out on it. Instead, I drop my head back against the headrest and squeeze my eyes shut.
Think unsexy thoughts.
Naked old ladies.
Ezras’s bare ass.
Anything.
While we wait for her to stop shaking—and for my cock to finally calm the hell down—I can't stop the thought from settling in deep.
I want to make her laugh again. Properly laugh. I want to be the reason her eyes light up instead of being filled with pain, the reason the weight she carries eases, even if only a little. I want to take whatever hurt she's hiding and dull its edges, distract her from it, give her something better to hold onto.
I don't know when that want turned into need.
All I know is it's there now—and it's not going anywhere.
We finally make it back home.
