Did I say bad?

What I meant is catastrophic.

Cataclysmic.

A goddamned disaster of near epic proportions.

And even though I know it, even though I know that this whole thing is so far beyond fucked that I can’t even see it, I keep holding her.

I can’t let her go.

I tell myself it’s because she just came all over me, in the front seat of my mom’s minivan and I owe her that much, at least. I owe her a few minutes to get herself together because even though she’s the one who got off, as usual, I’m still the one who took.

I’m not pulling down Con’s numbers but I’ve fucked around plenty. Out of lust. Out of boredom. That fucked up need to control everything that’s rooted deep inside me.

This was different.

It was more.

It was too much.

Because even though I want to fuck her in the worse possible way, I’m not thinking about all the morally questionable things I can talk her into now that she’s warmed-up and willing to do just about anything I say, as long as I make her come again.

I’m thinking about the day of her mother’s funeral. The way she let me hold her. Her warm breath on my neck. Her cold fingers clutching the front of my shirt. Her hot tears seeping through the fabric of it. She made herself vulnerable.

Allowed herself to fall apart in front of me.

Shared something with me she didn’t mean to.

Gave me something I wasn’t meant to have.

Just like now.

And now, just like then, I am wholly unworthy of it. I took something from her I can’t give back and that makes me an asshole.

What makes me a giant, festering asshole is that I’m going to do it again. I know I am.

As soon as she’ll let me.

As often as I can.

She shifts against me and my still-stiff cock starts to throb so goddamned hard I can feel my pulse in my balls.

She does it again. Sinks lower, shifting her hips against mine. If it were anyone else, I’d think she’s doing it on purpose. That she’s fucking with me. Teasing me.

But this is Tess.

She doesn’t have it in her.

Doesn’t know how.

Breathe, asshole.

Fucking.

Breathe.

“Tess.”

“Mmmm…” she practically purrs like the damn cat. Her face is turned into my neck. The sound and feel of it humming and vibrating against my skin.

“Tess.” This time the word barely makes it out of my mouth, her name mangled and flattened into a croak.

“What?” Her mouth moves when she says it, her lips grazing and skimming against the base of my throat, making it easy for me to pretend that she’s kissing me.

She sounds content. Completely satisfied.

I did that.

Made her feel that way.

Made her come.

Again.

I want to do it again.

Shit.

“Tess.” I harden my tone, trying to shake her out of her post-orgasm haze because as soon as she’ll let me is suddenly right fucking now and I’m not sure she’s ready for what I’m seconds away from doing to her.

I know for a fucking fact, I’m not.

When all she does is give me another satisfied little hum and settle deeper into my lap, I have to grit my teeth. Fist my hands in the back of her shirt. Make myself pull her back. Put space between us.

“Tesla.”

She opens her eyes and looks at me. As soon as the haze clears, her hazel eyes go wide the moment they focus on my face.

“Oh, my god.” She breathes it, her expression caught somewhere between dumbstruck disbelief and sheer mortification. “Oh, my god.” She says it louder this time, arms and legs flailing wildly in a desperate bid to get away from me.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

She keeps saying it as she scrambles back into her seat, nearly landing on the cat who’s been sleeping on the seat, seemingly the entire time.

“Nope,” I say, surprised by how hurt and irritated I am by her reaction. “Still just Declan.”

She reaches for the door handle and gives it a frantic jerk. Gives is another one when the door doesn’t open. It’s a minivan. There are safety locks on the safety locks for fuck’s sake but she looks at me like I’m holding her hostage or some shit. Like I locked her in on purpose. Like I’m not going to let her go.

Makes me wonder if she can read my mind.

“Let me out.” She doesn’t sound scared. She sounds pissed. Looks pissed too. Like she did before I put my hands on her. My dick gives a hard jerk, practically lunging at her.

And because this situation obviously isn’t fucked enough, I start to laugh.

“I’m serious, Declan,” she hisses at me, giving the door handle another yank. “Open the god—”

I sober quickly at her tone. “Not until you put your coveralls back on,” I say, deliberately lowering my gaze. Let it settle on the front of her tank top. On the wide, wet spot, stilling clinging to her breast, where my mouth sucked and teased her nipple through the fabric.

As soon as my gaze hits them, her nipples go stiff. Tighten and swell.

She flushes again, the ugly red stain of it heating her cheeks. She doesn’t say it but I know what she’s thinking. That’s one of the best worst things about her—she has absolutely no poker face. If she’s thinking it or feeling it, it shows on her face, as plain as day.

And right now she’s confused.

Can’t reconcile what she wants, with what she knows is right.

What she feels with what she thinks.

I look away from her, aiming a glare out the windshield to stare at the block wall I’m parked in front of. “Hurry up,” I bark at her, forcing indifference and boredom into my tone. “I don’t have all fucking day.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch her jerk the sleeves of her coveralls loose from around her waist and thread her arms through the holes. As soon as she’s covered, I pop the lock on the door.

Tess scoops the kitten off the seat and is out of the van before I can blink, slamming the door behind her.