They pull ahead and continue down the street.
The next car brushes past, this bloke settling on giving me the bird instead of a quick chat. I nod apologetically, waving a hand at his gesture.
Brooke couldn’t be more amused sitting next to me, her head back against the seat and her hands covering her face as she laughs into the silence of the car.
“Unbelievable. You could’ve done anything if it was just that one car! You could’ve blocked the street entirely and refused to move. Opened fire on them. Acted like a dick. I’m pretty sure that couple was close to offering to name their first born after you. That guy was pissed, and then . . .” she pauses, pointing a finger at me. “As soon as you opened that mouth of yours, dropping those adorable ‘yeahs’, it was like the second coming for those people. Mason the Messiah.”
I flash her a grin as I make it out of the one-way street. “I told you it would be all right. We had plenty of room.”
“Plenty of room. Yeah, okay,” she snickers. “It was that mouth. I’m telling you. I know what that mouth does to me. Now I’m seeing it work on the general population. You have a gift, Mason. You should probably go into politics.”
I don’t hear anything after . . .
“What does it do to you, Brooke?”
An ache pinches in the center of my chest.
She slowly turns her head, then drops it back against the seat, staring at me as the city lights move over her face.
I want to continue looking at her. In the daylight, preferably, where I can really see every emotion wash over her face. The heady look in her eyes I’m hoping is there. I don’t need my attention being pulled away for the sake of safety right now, but that’s exactly what happens before she can answer me.
“Wait. Just hold on. Don’t say anything yet.”
I pick up speed and take us back in the direction we came.
We drive through the city in silence until Brooke fiddles with the stereo, tuning the station to soft rock. Coldplay and One Republic become the background noise of our night. It mellows my suddenly anxious mind, my restless body, impatient against the seat.
It takes us twenty minutes to get out of the city.
I want to reach out and take her hand again. I want her to finish what she was going to tell me, but I keep my hands firmly planted on the wheel and my questions to myself until I pull us onto a dirt path that leads to an overlook I found when I went exploring my first day here.
It’s a secluded spot. I believe there’s a few trails that lead to some campsites, and a lake nearby. I made a mental note the other day to come back here. Discover more of it. I hadn’t realized at the time I’d be doing it so soon with Brooke.
I park near a lamp post and turn my attention to her.
She smiles warmly at me. She looks like she’s glowing under the amber lights provided from above.
“Wet,” she whispers, angling her body, her hair spilling over the edge of the seat.
I lean closer, fitting her sweet face between my hands. “What’s that, gorgeous?”
She inhales sharply as I slide my mouth against hers. Her perfect fucking lips open for me, inviting me to take her. We both moan, her hands fisting my shirt and mine moving to her neck, tangling in her hair as I tilt her head. Her warm tongue strokes along mine.
“It makes me wet,” she says breathlessly between kisses. “I’m . . . so wet, Mason. God, my thong is probably soaked right now. Useless. I can take it off if you’d like.”
I groan as my hand falls to her lap, then moves along the smooth, warm skin of her upper thigh underneath her dress. I press against the lace of her g-string.
Soaked.
“Yes,” she moans, her head flopping back. “Yes, please, touch me. God, I need this.”
I lick up her throat, dragging my teeth along her skin as I slide one finger inside her, then another. She’s silky and hot. She trembles when I press against her clit.