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“But you had fun?”
She must sense the slight hint of worry still lingering in my voice, because her palm settles back against the denim of my jeans, squeezing my knee through the fabric. “So much fun. They’re really great.”
“Good.” I blow out a surreptitious breath. “That’s good.”
“Aw, were you nervous? Was this like ‘meet the parents’ for you?”
“You’ve already met my parents,” I remind her.
“True.” She squeezes me again. “I really did love them. I had an amazing time.”
“I’m glad,” I tell her honestly. “I was a little nervous. I was afraid it was a stupid idea to even ask you to come.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…I mean, I know I explained how things were between us, but I kept thinking it was still a dick move to ask you to have dinner with my ex.”
“Ian,” she says, her tone firmer. “I told you that I trusted you. If you tell me I have nothing to worry about, then I’m not going to worry. Okay?”
Tension uncoils in my belly. I have to grip the steering wheel just to keep myself from slamming on the brakes and launching myself into her seat so I can cover her mouth with mine. I mean, I’ve always known that Lila was too good for this world, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s too good for me as well.
I blow out a breath. “You don’t,” I answer, “have anything to worry about.” I can’t help the strangled laugh that escapes me. “God, Lila. You keep being so fucking perfect, and you’re going to have to pry me off of you with a goddamned crowbar if you decide to get rid of me.”
“Mm.” I can just make out her biting her bottom lip when I glance at her from the side. “I kind of like the sound of that, actually.”
“What, prying me off with a crowbar?”
“More like you being so close I would even need to in the first place.”
“You can’t say shit like that to me when you’re still wearing that dress, and I can’t do anything about it.”
Her hand slides further up my thigh, her smile turning coy. “Who says you can’t do anything about it?”
“Lila.”
I groan just as her fingers tease the shape of my cock through my jeans. Her touch is still slight, teasing, even, but the slow back-and-forth of her finger tracing my length that is rapidly filling has my head spinning.
“I cannot guarantee a safe drive if you keep touching me like that,” I warn her.
She squeezes me, and I suck in a ragged breath. “I trust you. Just keep your eyes on the road.”
“You really expect me to be able to keep my eyes on the road when you’re undoing my fucking zipper?”
“Mhm.” And she means it, apparently, since she’s working the panels of my fly apart, slipping her fingers under the waistband of my boxer briefs. “I want to play, and you have to drive.”
“What if I want to touch you?”
“Later,” she murmurs. “This is about you right now.”
I don’t know why that one sentence gets me so unreasonably hot—but the low rasp of her voice telling me that this is about me as she pulls my cock out has me visibly tense and noticeably sweating.
Her thumb teases my slit to collect the splash of pre-come there, circling it around the head of my cock as my hips shift up of their own accord as if seeking more of her touch. She squeezes me gently as my hands tighten on the wheel, feeling like I’m taking the world’s dirtiest driver’s exam with the way my eyes are forcibly focused on the road ahead and my palms are sweaty as they grip ten and two.
A pathetic sound escapes me when she lets me go, but a peek in my peripherals has me almost choking on my own tongue when I notice her licking her palm. Her eyes connect with mine just as the slick pink dips back into her mouth, her lips curling at the corners with a smirk.
“Eyes on the road, Ian.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. “You know when I get you back to your place you’re going to get it, right?”
