My pulse skips.
“So no, I’m not holding back anymore, and I hope you're ready for that.”
I smirk, despite myself, heart racing. “Bold of you to assume I can't handle you.”
This man has a filthy mouth, and it does things to me I wasn't remotely prepared for. Heat spreads low in my stomach, all needy, which is honestly ridiculous considering all we've done is kiss. No one before me has ever flipped a switch like this, ever.
I've always known a part of me wanted someone who could take control without asking, who wanted me constantly, unapologetically. Someone who knew exactly what to do with me and wasn't afraid to prove it. God, I hope it's him.
I slide my hands up and grip either side of his neck, his skin soft. The only redeeming quality about these heels is that I don't have to stretch to meet his eyes.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, the words barely making it past my lips.
“Is that an order?”
My hands cup his cheeks, and the rough scrape of his stubble against my palms sends a shiver straight through me. “Just kiss me.”
He doesn't hesitate.
His lips crash into mine, all hunger and impatience. It's messy, desperate, and I feel him everywhere. I hate that our soaked clothes are in the way, hate the distance they create when all I want is to be closer.
Elijah groans, the sound vibrating against my mouth before he pulls back. I let out a soft sound of protest without thinking, my lips falling into a pout.
“Don't pout.” his eyes flick over my mouth. “Walk over to the car for me.”
He steps back, hands flexing at his sides like it's taking real effort not to pull me straight back in.
“Are we going?” I ask lightly. “Because I was really enjoying that kiss.”
“So was I, but I’d rather not get taken out by a passing car while we are both distracted.” He jerks his chin toward the vehicle. “Go to the car. Now.”
I turn and reluctantly walk toward it, trying not to limp even though these heels are actively plotting my demise. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.
When I reach the car, I rest my fingers lightly on the bonnet and turn. Suddenly, he's there, hands sliding to my hips and lifting me with ease. The metal presses against the back of my thighs, damp and cold, and a quiet squeak slips out of me.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, breathless as his hands brace on either side of me.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I lean in, eager to kiss him again, but he stops me with a single finger to my lips. “Not here.”
My stomach flips.
His touch slides down, big and rough, gripping my thighs and easing them apart, claiming the space between them like he has every right to it. I glance around instinctively, worried about someone turning up.
“Elijah,” I breathe. The way he's looking at me steals the breath from my lungs. “You can't do that here.”
He trails his fingers over the fabric of my thong, a warning touch that makes my body respond before my mouth can catch up. My hips tilt despite myself.
“Are you really going to deny me my pussy?”
I’d be an idiot to say no.
“Anyone could show up,” I murmur, trying to reason even as my body betrays me. The words are weak, and he knows it.
“It's the middle of the night, so it's just us.” He guides my legs wider, the fabric of my dress pulling tight as his gaze darkens. “I've been thinking about all the different positions I can bend you in.”
Heat floods me as he drops down in front of me.
