He snorted. “You are. Somehow, I enjoy your companydespitethat.”
“Hmm.” Her body felt like it was on the edge of something. A precipice, with a rope bound around her waist to keep her from falling. Only, shewantedto fall.
She wanted to feel his skin touch hers again, like it had in the tavern. She wanted to be devoured by his wolfish grin, wanted him to whisper in her ear how much he hated to ache for her. Wanted to feel his breath graze her jaw, her neck, fanning over her like embers ready to catch fire.
She’d forgotten what this sort of desire had felt like. Forgotten she was even capable of it. She often held it at bay, too afraid it might not be reciprocated.She used to leave Kenzie to initiate every moment of intimacy, just in case she read it all wrong and made a fool of herself.
He was staring at her, she realised. Waiting for something more.
When she met his eyes, he let out a long puff of breath and shook his head. “Shite, Harper.”
“What?” she asked, not confident enough to believe she might already know.
“You are… not what I was expecting.”
“No?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he leaned forwards, clicking loose both his seatbelt and then hers. “Are you teasing me on purpose?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
His nose brushed hers, and the jagged breath that left her betrayed her waning resolve. It was easier to let it show in the darkness of the truck, with shadows all around. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t see her blush. The other part hoped he would, so that she wouldn’t have to say it, either.
So that they could just let it happen, whateveritwas. Clearly, he didn’t do relationships, and she was in no position to start one, either, but there was something between them she couldn’t ignore.
His thumb brushed her lips as he whispered, “Do you need me to say it?”
Slowly, she dragged her finger across his chest, up to the space between his collarbones. He shuddered beneath her,telling her all she needed to know. “Why say it when you can just… do it?”
His mouth was on hers in an instant.
He felt like she’d imagined he would, in her bed last night. Rough stubble, rougher kisses, with fingers hungry to explore the shape of her jaw, her neck, her shoulders. He was a sculptor and she was his clay, moulding into something new with every touch.
“We just need to get it out of our system,” she convinced herself between rasps and kisses. It didn’t feel like this would ever leave, though. She was a live wire, suddenly aware of every minute sensation in her body. Aware of places she hadn’t known existed until now.
“Yep. That’s all it is.” His hand slid up her thigh, stopping just before it reached the place where she wanted him most. “Can I touch you?” He was leaning over the gearstick now. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but he didn’t seem to care.
She groaned and shoved his hand further up her legs until it landed below her zipper. “Please.”
But he didn’t start there, instead shifting up her jumper, mouth roving the rolls of her stomach with reckless abandon. She shimmied over to wrap her legs around him, elbows and knees crashing into a thousand different things as she tried to get comfortable on his lap. If they were calmer, more sensible, they could have been doing this inside the cabin, but she wanted him more than she wanted to move away. Couldn’t risk that one of them might change their mind given the chance.
“I’ve been thinking about you for fucking days, sunshine,” he growled against her, and then her breasts were in his hands and he was drawing noises she’d never made before out of her. “That fucking vibrator. Your fucking shorts. Your curves, your thighs, your fucking mouth.” He moved back up to kiss her lips, sucking on her lower one until she squirmed. God, she’d never been touched like this. Like he might not survive if he didn’t coax out every hint of her pleasure.
She arched her back, yelping when her head slammed against the window. “There isn’t enough room in this bloody truck!”
He laughed, and it rumbled through every part of her like thunder.That. She wanted that against her, wanted it to run through her again and again. She raked her fingers through the thick waves of his red hair, tugging roughly until he kissed her again.
“We can move—”
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. She wasn’t sure she could take his absence. Needed his weight against her body like she needed air.
So he didn’t, instead his eyes darkening at her command. One of his hands slid across her stomach, the other roughly palming her through her jeans. Stiff fabric rubbed against her clit, and she rocked her hips to feel more of it until she couldn’t bear it anymore. Until she was unzipping them, pushing them down her thighs in an awkward battle.
Fraser yanked her closer to him, eliciting another whimper of surprise from her. “There isn’t enough time to do everything I want to do with you,” he muttered.“All the ways I want to touch you, feel you.”
I’m here for months, she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare presume he might want her come tomorrow. Or the day after. Maybe they would wake up and feel satiated enough to brush aside their chemistry for good. Maybe he would regret it, regret her, and she would hate herself for letting him have her.
She wanted to recoil at that thought, but she’d come too far to go back now. So she tightened her legs around him. He looked up like he’d never seen anything like her, lips parted, arched neck flushed. She ran her fingers through his short beard, and he hummed with pleasure.