Page 67 of Stranger Danger

Buckets pour down, plinking hard on top of the roof until it sounds like someone’s trying to nail us into a coffin.

I think life has officially said, “Fuck both of you. Sideways. With a wrench.”

What’s worse than negative luck?

Whatever it is, I definitely have it.

Beckett clicks the button for my seatbelt, and it skids across my chest before catching on my shoulder. I hear the buckle of his seatbelt hit the other door.

“I need to run in the rest stop,” I say, glancing over—

He grabs a fistful of the hoodie and drags me closer. My nose smashes into his cheek, and his lips crash into mine. His teeth catch my bottom lip hard enough to sting, and I make a noise—more embarrassing than my stupid confession—into his mouth. His other hand grabs my leg and pulls me over until I’m half on his lap and half on the middle console, my knee crushing the to-go cup from the diner.

“We need to watch cars,” I whisper when he breaks away to breathe. If he’s not thinking right, that’s on me. Even if I really don’t want to human anymore.

His tongue slides across my open mouth, slow and wet, and I’m hard in less than a second. He yanks me completely into his lap, the steering wheel jamming into my back.

“Stay with me forever, Ira Colson.”

It’s so damn quiet that I almost miss it under the rain hammering the roof like crazy.

Heat floods my face and trickles down to the rest of my body in pieces.

“Only if—” I start, and he kisses me again. His hands shimmy under my thighs, lifting me like I weigh nothing, and I grab the headrest behind him to keep from falling backward. The steering wheel digs harder into my spine, but it’s real.

All of this is real.

“Beckett—” I try again, but he’s kissing my jaw now, my throat, his stubble scraping against the sensitive spot under my ear until I’m panting. “We need—”

“Fuck everything else for ten minutes.”

I don’t know if we have ten minutes. Every single second that we’re out here is a fucking miracle and a laugh in my face. Dave’s blood is drying on my mask in the trunk. The side of Beckett’s face is bruised so badly it’s green.

But Beckett’s mouth finds mine again, and everything else inside my head shuts down. The rain pounds harder, drowning out everything except his breathing and the wet caress of his tongue against mine. I smooth my fingers through his curls, tilting his head to the side, and he makes this broken, desperate noise that makes my heart swell.

“Please don’t stop touching me,” he says against my lips.

I’m not going to cry.

I’m not.

Tears prick my eyes anyway, and a lump climbs up my throat, too big to swallow. I blink the waterfall back as best I can, and focus on his tongue gliding from my mouth down to my neck. He yanks the collar of the hoodie down, his teeth sinking into the space right above my collarbone, sucking so hard it feels like he’s trying to remove my soul. Then he moves to another spot on my neck. And another. And another.

By the fifth hickey, my skin’s so sensitive that just his breath makes me whimper. When he snakes his hands up the back of my hoodie, the skin-on-skin contact is too much. My dick’s throbbing in that brain-melting way.

Fuck.

We don’t need ten minutes if I’m like this. Two is more than enough.

“The—” I lick my lips. “The backseat has more room.”

“Good idea.”

I pull away—fully planning on climbing over the middle console—but he doesn’t let go. He shoves open the door and loops his arms under my thighs, carrying me into the rain that’s coming down like goddamn bullets. Cold water slices down my bare legs, black hoodie stuck to my skin in seconds as he shuffles the couple of feet to the back. My knee knocks into the door, hard enough to curl my toes, but I don’t care. Not when he kisses me again, rain plastering his hair to his face and mine, running down his nose until it’s all I can taste.

The back door opens and he lowers me onto the seat—infinitely more comfy than the stupid wheel. Something small digs into my spine. Maybe a pebble. I blindly reach to grab it, and my fingers find the edge of a conversation heart.

Beckett climbs in after me, slamming the door.