Cletus hit the accelerator and I was pressed back against the seat, my eyes on the side mirror. The motorcycles’ headlights diminished to small dots as he placed distance between us. Clearly they’d expected his destination to be the Winston house.
As soon as we passed the end of their drive, Cletus switched off his lights. Almost immediately after that, he slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel to one side, pulling onto a road I’d never noticed. Or maybe it wasn’t a road. Either way, it was too dark for me to see. We were surrounded by blackness and forest and the car jostled violently. For all I knew, we were about to hit a tree.
Rather than give voice to my uncertainty and fear, I rolled my lips between my teeth and braced.
The car came to an abrupt stop. He cut the engine and silence fell like a blanket around us. Then I heard the roar of a car engine pass, followed closely by the reverberations of several motorcycles. Less than a minute later I heard several more; they reached a crescendo, then began to fade. And then nothing.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, the suddenness of the sound startling me, and I listened as he did the same to mine. He reached for me, tugged me across the bench, and pulled me into a tight embrace. Cletus’s hands moved over my body as though he were searching.
I felt his heart hammer in his ribcage, the first real sign that he was anything less than calm and collected. Strangely, realizing that he wasn’t impervious to fear helped mine feel less cumbersome.
“Hey, hey.” I pulled away, just slightly because his arms wouldn’t let me go far. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” he returned, his hands coming to my face and tipping my chin back. I couldn’t see a thing, but I got the sense he could see me. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, then skimmed down the side of my neck, making me shiver. “That last stretch was rough on the shocks. You hurt?”
I shook my head, not quite able to speak because where I was—in the middle of nowhere—plus who I was with—the man I’d been thinking about non-stop—meant my body was responding and reacting in ways I didn’t have much control over.
Despite the lingering adrenaline, or maybe because of it, I couldn’t help notice the intimacy of our position. How I sat straddling his lap, how our chests were pressed together, how he smelled like mint and soap and aftershave and Cletus.
He released a breath; it fell over my face and sounded relieved. “Good. I didn’t know. You were so quiet. I can’t believe how quiet you were, the whole time you didn’t say a word.” I felt his eyes on me, but he remained in shadow. “Are you in shock?”
I shook my head again, sliding my hands from his shoulders to his biceps, liking how his muscles felt under my fingers. Touching him, feeling him beneath me, being surrounded by Cletus made my stomach twist and release, an aching warmth pooling low in my belly, between my legs.
“Cletus,” I whispered, climbing higher on his lap, wanting to press closer, wondering—quite suddenly—what his skin felt like. I wished—with equal suddenness—that the barrier of our clothes didn’t exist.
He grew very still and I sensed his breathing change. He could see me. Maybe he couldn’t see me perfectly, but he obviously could make out my features.
“Jenn . . .” My name was a low rumble, not quite a whisper, not quite a breath.
“I miss you,” I said, instinct had me rocking against him, trying to ease the ache at my center.
“Oh fuck, don’t do that.” He grabbed my arms as though to hold me still.
I didn’t want to hold still. I wanted to kiss him. So I did.
I covered his mouth with mine, shaking his grip from my arms as I wrapped them around his neck. At first he did nothing, but I didn’t care. He still tasted good, and his mouth was hot and soft and wonderful. I wanted him, so I took him. I swept my tongue out and licked him, like he’d done to me eleven days ago, loving how he parted lips and moaned in response.
Suddenly and quite forcefully, he was participating. He grabbed my ponytail and I gasped. He captured the sound of surprise, his tongue expertly loving mine, and he used his leverage to tilt my head to the side, opening me, consuming me with his kisses.
I felt him lengthen and harden against my inner thigh and my body shuddered in response. Unthinkingly, I pressed down, shifting my hips. His legs tensed, the muscles like granite, and he tore his mouth away.
“Jenn—”
“Don’t stop.” I know I’m not what you want, but don’t you dare stop.
I moved my fingers into his jacket, pushing it off, searching for his lips. Instead, I found the side of his face, but I didn’t care. I kissed his cheekbone, his jaw beneath his beard, and his neck.
“I’m not going to stop,” he growled, pulling his arms from his coat, sounding ill-tempered and impatient. His fingers immediately returned, digging into my backside.