‘Jesus, Olivia.’
‘I’m just finishing the sentence you started.’
I shake my head, try to shift the image so eager to descend on my brain. Her, exposed, bare to my hungry gaze, her dress parted to her waist...
‘Tonight was important,’ I say through my teeth.
‘Correction,’ she sing-songs, so happy, amused at her own little game. ‘It is important.’
I flick her a disbelieving look. ‘And yet you risked it with some throwaway remark like that.’
‘I wasn’t risking anything. It was for your ears only and it wasn’t a throwaway remark; it was an honest declaration.’
I shake my head again, try to ignore the way my body heats, my imagination unwilling to quit.
‘Are you angry because you think I was lying? That I was saying it just to tease you?’
My frown deepens, my eyes intent on the road, my mind less so. No, it hadn’t occurred to me that she would lie. Was she?
‘If you like, I can prove it to you, right—?’
‘No.’ Hell, no.
She gives a soft little huff. ‘You really are no fun.’
I grit my teeth and drive, determined to ignore her, determined to get her home and get myself far away from her before I break.
She goes back to looking out of the window, quiet, still. But the damage is done; my entire body fires with it. Lust. Want. Need. An uncontrollable thirst that I know is all the more intense for four years’ abstinence.
I park up outside her house, cut the engine. And we sit there. And sit there. Neither saying a word.
Outside, the streetlamps cast a soft glow over the deserted street and the only sound is that of our breathing and the odd tick from the car as it settles. It’s intimate. Closed in. The air thick with this incessant tension she’s so determined to provoke.
I should be telling her goodnight, I should be seeing her in and driving away, but I can’t find my voice. I don’t want her to go in...not without me.
A car alarm fires up in the distance and she starts. ‘Okay. I guess that’s it then. Thank you for this evening.’
She turns to unfasten her seatbelt and I turn with her, my hand falling to cover hers—
What are you doing?
She looks up, straight into my eyes that I know blaze with everything my body wants, and her fingers flutter beneath my hand. Her nose flares ever so slightly as her breaths shorten and her pulse beats wild in her slender throat.
Fuck.
I want this. I’m angry that I want it. I’m angry at her for making me want it.
Her eyes fall to my lips, her own parting as she leans in closer. ‘Valentine?’
It’s breathless, laced with desire, and my thighs tremble with the heat, the tension, the fight that I can’t win.
‘Why are you doing this?’
Our heads are so close now our noses almost touch.
‘Because it’s fun,’ she whispers.
‘Fun?’
She nods, her nose brushing against mine, and I lift my hand from hers, fork it through her pinned hair as my body urges me to hold her closer. ‘Is it just some game to you?’
She arches her head back into my palm, lifts her lips so I can feel the air move against my own as she speaks. ‘Does it matter when it feels as good as this?’
‘Olivia...’ It’s a low growl, and I’m kissing her, the move as aggressive as my anger, as fierce as my folly, because I can’t stop now. Now that I’m tasting her, my tongue delving deep into her mouth.
She’s all sweet, warm, wet and pliant, so very pliant. And I haven’t done this in so long. It’s familiar and yet not. Like a voyage of rediscovery and I’m losing myself in it. The sensation, the heat, the moans that fill the car, and I know they’re as much mine as they are hers.
She lifts her hands to my hair, fierce, tugging, clawing. Our heads angling this way and that as our tempo ups. Our movements becoming more desperate, more impatient, eager to deepen the kiss, desperate to get enough.
‘I take it back.’ She scrambles across the car and into my lap, her body wedged between the steering wheel and me. ‘I like your choice of car. We couldn’t do this in a Porsche.’
I’m too turned on to laugh, too turned on to speak as my hands lift to her breasts, cupping, stroking. She feels so good, so needy and responsive as she grinds against me and tugs her dress to her hips. That’s when I remember the underwear, the lack of... I look down, watch as she rides over my cock, long drawn-out strokes that press against her clit and massage and torment me in one.
‘I want you, here, now,’ she pants out between kisses, between sucked-in breaths that hardly seem enough for the emboldened grinding. ‘Please, Valentine. Please.’
Oh, God, yes. I’m nodding into our kiss and she breaks away, reaches over to the passenger seat to her bag. She flicks it open, her lower body still riding against me in the most hypnotic way and my hands hover at her hips, my eyes falling to the slick trail now running over my zip, to her wet and bare pussy so ready for me, and I swear there’s no blood left in my brain to think. It’s all straining at the head of my dick, sending me dizzy.
‘Got it!’ she declares, straightening on my lap and looking down at me with a triumphant smile that’s all giddy, sexed-up and teasing in one. She hooks the foil packet in her teeth, her hands lowering to my trousers.
‘Here?’ I swallow. We can’t. We’re on the street. A public street. Anyone could see if they dared look close enough.
She nods and as if to punctuate her agreement she feeds the loop of my belt through, the jangle of the buckle so loud in the quiet of the car. Jesus, I haven’t been this brazen since...and my brain shuts down, refusing to finish the thought. Eager to trap it with
