Keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the steering wheel, he gave the rest of his body’s attention to me. “Damn right, you’re not,” he said, his mouth curving into a smile that disappeared when my mouth covered his.
It wasn’t quite a moan, it went deeper than that, but the sound that came from his chest when my lips parted his and my tongue crept into his mouth was all Jude. I wasn’t paying the truck that much attention, but I thought I might have detected another increase in speed.
Jude kissed me back, matching every slide of my tongue and movement of my lips with one of his own. His free hand slid beneath my sweater, smoothing up the plane of my back. His hand was warm, slightly rough from days spent working in the garage and on the football field, and they were capable.
The truck hit a particularly nasty bump, pounding my lap down hard against his. Heat spread from the area between my legs, and this time it was me who made a noise that had yet to be named. The reality of us driving down a dark, gravel country road at thirty to forty miles an hour didn’t register with me when my hands left his neck to tug at the hem of my sweater. If he wasn’t going to do it, I was. Throwing the sweater over my head, I tossed it across the bench seat.
“Luce,” Jude said, his voice just enough strained to let me know I was doing something very right. “I’m trying to drive here.”
He’d put the brakes on this too many times before, metaphorically speaking—I wasn’t letting him this time. I was planting my feet beneath that brake before he could slam down on it.
Moving my mouth just outside his ear, I whispered, “Me too,” right before I took his earlobe into my mouth, sucking it softly.
Another sound slid up his throat, this one so loud it vibrated my chest. “Hell with it,” he said, no amount of hesitation or uncertainty in his voice. It was as firm and resolute as his body thrumming beneath mine.
With one flick of his fingers, my bra snapped free from my back, sliding down my arms until it landed on the floor beside Jude’s feet. His mouth covered mine again, hot and unyielding. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to if it meant not being able to kiss Jude like he was kissing me right now. How he could make me feel his passion, his love, and his possession in one kiss was inexplicable. But he could. Jude’s body expressed his feelings, more often than not, better than his words.
“A little help?” he breathed in the space of our mouths. His hand grabbed mine and lifted it to the top button of his shirt. “Unless you want to finish this thing in the hospital, I’ve got to keep one hand on the wheel.” His words were strained, like I knew mine would be if I could talk right now. “I want to feel you against me, Luce,” he said when my fingers forgot what they were supposed to be working on.
Even with both hands fumbling over it, it took me one long kiss to get the first button freed. I was graceful everywhere except being intimate with Jude. Here, I became a fumbling, fiddling mess of nerves and limbs. Deciding we’d be across the state line before I finished the job, I stopped kissing him so I could focus. Focus a bit more.
The way he looked at me rendered me almost useless. The emotions he could convey with those eyes always confounded me, no matter what I was attempting to do at the time.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked, forcing myself to take a controlled breath in. I had to replace and store as much oxygen as my lungs were capable before getting back after it. “Not that I really care, but I’m sure we’re breaking about every traffic law ever put into motion, and I did kind of make you promise to stay on the straight and narrow.” Two more buttons free, a few more to go.
I grinned—it was the little things that made me happy.
Jude’s smile evened out as both eyes met mine for an instant. “Of course you’re safe, Luce,” he promised, one eye shifting back to the road. “I would never put you in harm’s way. I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, like it was a mantra. “You know that. Right?”
Leave it to Jude to take a simple question and to twist it into something it wasn’t.
“Of course I do,” I said, looking up at him before focusing on the next button. I wasn’t letting the turn in conversation stop me. “I was just checking. Straddling a driver while we attempt to undress each other at forty miles per hour is a first for me. Just wanted to get the safety seal of approval before proceeding.”
“This better be a first,” he said, the serious lines of his face fading. “And consider your safety seal stamped. I was driving before I was jerking off, Luce. I can control a vehicle better than I can control myself.”
“Baby,” I said, freeing the last button right before I tugged the shirt free from his pants, “your words never fail to make me want to swoon and squirm at the same time.”
Sweeping his shirt from his body, I slid my chest against his. The soft parts of my body formed against the hard parts of his. The lightest sheen of sweat was covering his chest, exchanging with the sheen of mine. Another uptick in speed.
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Luce,” he said, his free hand clamping tight around my back, fitting my body against his like a key slipping into a lock.
This was the farthest he’d let things get since last spring, right before we graduated and discovered how our families and past tragically wove together. My body had forgotten how to breathe—I had to remind myself how to do it.