Page 36 of Final Drive

“What if I want it to be about you for a minute?”

My heart does something stupid. “What?”

“You said impatient.” Her eyes come up to mine. “Impatient for what?”

“Reese.”

“Tell me.”

I swallow. “For this. For you.” I move a strand of hair off her face before I can talk myself out of it. “I think about you constantly. About the bus after Riverside. The way you tasted. The sounds you made when I⁠—”

I cut myself off when my face goes hot.

“When you went down on me,” she finishes, her voice dropping lower. “I remember.”

“I think about it all the time. And then in the kitchen, when you had me in your mouth.” I have to stop and collect myself. “I’ve been running both of those on a loop for weeks.”

“Zane.”

“And now Tyler’s kissed you and I’m sitting here like an idiot who can’t even⁠—”

She kisses me.

It isn’t tentative and it isn’t a question. She leans in and puts her mouth on mine like she’s been thinking about this too, and for a second my brain completely gives up on me. Then I’m kissing her back, one hand in her hair and the other hooking under her thigh to bring her into my lap. She comes willingly, knees bracketing my hips, and the angle lets me get deeper into it. She tastes like mint and something sweet.

Ice cream. Tyler fucking bought her ice cream.

I pull back just enough to look at her. “He bought you dessert too?”

“What?”

“I can taste it.”

“Salted caramel.”

“Of course he did. Guy really came prepared.”

She looks entirely too pleased with herself. “Are you keeping score?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s very secure of you.”

“I’m going through something.”

She kisses me again before I can embarrass myself further, and this time I let the rest of the room go. The ease of it gets to me more than I expected, the way she settles against me like there was never a question about where she’d fit.

“Is this okay?” she asks against my lips.

“Are you kidding? This is the opposite of not okay. This is extremely, incredibly, enthusiastically okay.”

“Good.”

She kisses me harder, and I shift us until she’s on her back against the pillows and I’m over her without breaking away. Her dress has ridden up over the smooth skin of her thighs, and I run a hand down her side, over the curve of her waist and the dip of her hip.

“I’ve thought about this,” I say against her jaw. “Getting my mouth on you again. Doing it properly instead of rushed in the back of a bus.”

Her breath catches. “Zane.”