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She swallows audibly. “I’m not used to one-night stands, that’s all. This is so new to me, the sensations that come with it, the feelings. I don’t want to screw up our friendship, but... I don’t know how to turn them off.”
“Turn what off?”
“The memories.”
It’s my turn to swallow as her eyes darken and she stares at my lips. I’m hard as a rock as my own memories assail me, the sight of her, the taste of her, the feel of her coming around me.
See, this is exactly why I never see a one-night stand again, because if it’s good—and it was indescribably good with Lainey—it’s impossible not to think about a repeat.
I’m reaching for her before I can tell myself not to. I don’t know how else to react to what’s happening between us. I pull her towards me and press my lips to hers. One of us makes a sound of wanting. I’m not sure who, but as Lainey ends up straddling my lap again, just like a week ago, I forget everything else and focus on her. Her hands dive into my hair as our tongues slide against one another and she rides me with our clothes on.
“Ben,” she moans.
I cup her breasts, teasing the hard buds of her nipples with the backs of my fingers as she presses her hips closer to mine. I want to lift up her skirt and have her sink down on me, lose myself in her right here, but the sound of honking jars both of us out of our bubble.
Her taxi.
She stands up quickly and I follow suit, putting my hands out to steady her when I see she’s having trouble standing on her own.
“Do you... do you want to come home with me?” she asks.
“Fuck yes.”
I know this is a terrible idea. In fact, terrible doesn’t begin to describe it. I never go back for seconds. Ever. Sleeping together once is a one-night stand, and while twice doesn’t necessarily constitute a relationship, the waters grow murkier.
“Just one more night,” I say.
I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her, myself, or both of us.
“One more night,” she agrees, her eyes flicking down to the ground and then back to mine. “And after that... we’ll still be friends, right?”
“Yes.”
The fact that she asks—that it’s important to her—is why we will be. I don’t know how it’s going to work when the chemistry between us is messing with both our heads, but I do know I want it to work. Thank God she’s not over Lucas. Even if the thought of her still having feelings for that guy makes me feel like hundreds of needles of poison are jabbing me all over, it’s also a blessing. Lainey’s feelings for him mean she’s not ready for another relationship. And the fact she knows me as well as she does gives me hope that we’re both on the same page when it comes to sex and this friendship.
We can do this. Somehow.
I open the cab door for her, and when she gets inside, I slide in next to her, indicating she should move over to the door so I can sit in the middle.
Lainey starts to give her address, but I put my hand on her knee and squeeze gently. When she breaks off, I give the driver my address instead. I never bring girls home with me. My place isn’t much to look at and I prefer to keep the never-ending stream of women out of my private space. Lainey isn’t one of those women I never want to see again, though. And I can’t wait the twenty-five-minute drive back to her house when we can be at mine in fifteen.
Thankfully, the cab driver seems to sense we’re not much in the mood for chitchat, and he tunes the radio to some Indian rap station that he’s content to tap away on the steering wheel to while singing along.
I contemplate asking him to change the station, but then Lainey leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to my throat and the song is the last thing on my mind. I’m just grateful it’s loud enough to drown out my pleasure. I squeeze her knee again and slide my hand under her skirt as she continues her sensual assault. I stroke the soft skin of her thigh. By the time I reach her underwear, she’s soaked and my cock presses painfully against my zipper as I caress her.
“Yes,” she whispers in my ear, running her hands over my erection in plain sight of the cab driver.
I should probably stop her. But touching her like this and having her touch me is the most pleasurable pain I’ve experienced to date. Desperate to feel more of her, I shove her underwear to the side and nearly lose it as I feel her hot and wet under my fingers. When her hips jerk off the seat and she cries out, I kiss her quickly, trying to silence her.
The driver can’t possibly see what I’m doing to Lainey because her skirt covers her, but I’m sure he can guess, if he hasn’t already. Uncomfortable with the concept of the driver watching Lainey climax in the rear-view mirror, I remove my hand. As unbelievingly turned on as I am, I don’t want this night with Lainey to be dirty and something she’s ashamed of come tomorrow. And no one but me is going to watch Lainey getting off.
Lainey whimpers softly as she realises I’m stopping.
“A few more minutes,” I tell her quickly. “Then I’m yours and you’re mine.”
Maybe it’s the poorly lit neighbourhood, but her eyes appear shadowed as she stares into mine. “Just one more night.”
“All night.” Because I want—I need—to spend the rest of the night exploring her and the passion exploding between us. “Does that work for you?”
Rather than answering, she kisses me hard on the mouth and I lose myself in her all over again.
