The car engine hummed, a quiet vibration through the seat—a reminder of the distance, the tension, between them. Mara shifted. The leather was warm against her bare skin as her skirt inched higher. She knew his eyes were on the road—Grant always played the responsible one—but she could feel the pressure radiating off him in thick, charged waves.
Her fingers skimmed her skirt, grazing bare skin. She didn’t look at him. Not at his knuckles, tight and pale on the wheel. Or his jaw, clenched. Good. He felt it. The stress. The pull. The hunger.
He hadn’t said much since they left the house. But she didn’t need words. Months of silent glances and accidental touches had brought them here. She knew what she wanted—and what he wanted, too. It smoldered just beneath the surface, waiting to ignite.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hill,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on his hands on the wheel. “I guess some people are lucky to have you all to themselves.” Her words lingered just a second too long, innocent enough on the surface, but carrying a faintly sharp edge. Her thoughts lingered on Amelia Hill, his loving wife. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her skirt sliding higher.
His jaw tightened, a muscle in his neck twitching as his gaze flicked to her, just for a second. Caught you. Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, and she let herself relax just a little more against the seat. She had him, even if he was still pretending he could resist.
“No need to thank me,” he replied. His voice was rougher than usual, a little frayed. And he was right—it was no trouble. Either he or Amelia had always driven her home over the past year, after she’d finished her babysitting duties.
Mara turned her head, watching him closely now, her gaze dragging over the lines of his profile—the strong jawline, the rough shadow of stubble, the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster than it should. God, he was handsome. In that older, rugged way that made her body hum. He wasn’t like the boys her age she’d known, all clumsy hands and awkward bravado. No, Grant had control. Confidence. A steady power that drew her in like a moth to flame.
Except now, he was slipping. And she could feel it, the cracks in that calm, collected exterior. Her heart raced, excitement flooding through her. A giggle bubbled up, but she kept her composure, not wanting to disrupt the moment.
“You look tense,” she murmured, her voice soft and steady, just a hint of a challenge. “Long night with…Mrs. Hill?” she murmured, knowing how he’d respond—how he’d fight, and fail.
Grant shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “No—uh. It’s just been a long day.”
Mara tilted closer, letting the scent of her perfume—Amelia’s brand—reach him. His breath caught, chest rising faster as it filled the car. He wanted her. Had for months. She could see it in the way he looked when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Or in the way his body tensed whenever she “accidentally” brushed against him in the kitchen or leaned a little too close while asking about his day. She’d seen the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the brief flare of guilt, but it was always chased by something darker. Desire.
She let her lips part slightly, trailing a finger up along his forearm, where it rested tense on the console, gripping the gear shift for dear life. Her hand traced circles on her thigh, inching higher. “If you need to unwind…” She smiled. “I could help.”
There it was—a break in the tension, a small exhale as he struggled to keep his composure. He didn’t speak or look at her, but she felt the heat radiating off him, the space between them thick with an unspoken intensity.
Mara could see he was probably thinking about Amelia. She was too—for a moment. But she hadn’t come here to lose.
She uncrossed her legs, slow and deliberate, her skirt barely covering her thighs. The hem slid up further as she shifted again. Her hand wrapped around his forearm, her thumb stroking his heated skin, like striking a match with every touch.
“Mara—” he started, his voice low, warning, but she cut him off with a small, teasing laugh.
“Come on,” she purred, her hand sliding to his thigh. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”
Grant’s jaw clenched tighter, but he didn’t tug away. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, flicked to her again, and there was something there—something raw, something dangerous, something on the verge of snapping.
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” Mara whispered, her voice almost a challenge now. “I’m almost 19.” Her hand slid back down to her thigh, moving higher still, her fingers brushing the smooth skin with a teasing slowness, just enough to let him see where she was headed. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t want this.”
The car moved too fast, streetlights blurring in streaks of gold. She wanted a collision, the release of everything they’d held back. And it was coming—she could feel it in the air, thick and oppressive, just waiting for the moment when Grant would finally let go.
His breath was shallow now, his fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. But Mara noticed the way his gaze drifted to her thighs, how his body shifted just slightly toward her, as if he were already surrendering to the inevitable.
Mara smiled, her fingers inching closer, tracing the line of her panties, each touch calculated to bait him. Grant’s grip tightened, his knuckles whitening as he fought against the urge, a flicker of guilt flashing through his eyes before being swallowed by raw, uncontainable desire.
“Go ahead—tell me you don’t want me,” she taunted, her eyes locked on his, as if daring him to choose someone else over her.
The silence in the car was heavy, pulsing with everything that hadn’t been said. Every second felt stretched thin, pulling tighter with every beat of her heart. Mara could see the struggle playing out across Grant’s face—his jaw flexing, lips pressed into a firm line, gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. He was holding on, barely.
She knew that wouldn’t last. He’d had plenty of chances to put a stop to her advances, but he didn’t, and it was only a matter of time before he was ensnared in her sticky web.
Mara’s fingers played lazily along the edge of her panties, letting him see just enough to make him sigh. She leaned back against the seat, a slow smile curving her lips, watching as his gaze betrayed him. He didn’t look for long, but it was long enough. Mara saw his breath hitch, the faintest tremor. He wanted her. And now there was no going back.
“Mara,” he said again, her name a rasp, rough in the thick air between them. It was a warning, but there was no real conviction behind it. His voice had lost that bite, replaced by something darker. Something hungry. Lust.
Mara tilted her head, smiling wider, eyes gleaming with delight. She had him. She could see it in the tightness of his body, the way his nostrils flared with each slow, uneven breath. He was breaking down, teetering on the edge. She pressed her advantage, her fingers tracing his jaw as his eyes flickered with hesitation, a silent, desperate plea buried in their depths. The realization tightened her smile; every ounce of his resistance only strengthened her pull, her control over him absolute.
“Tell me to stop,” she whispered, the words flowing from her lips like silk. Her fingers slid beneath the fabric of her white cotton panties, brushing softly against her own warm skin, her gaze never leaving his. Watching him. Waiting for him to break.
But Grant didn’t tell her to stop.
His breath lurched, and for a moment, his eyes darted away from the road, locking onto her with an intensity that made her body shiver. His pupils were wide, his face shadowed by the dim light, and she saw the faintest shudder run through him as he looked at her. The hunger was unmistakable. He couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from her.
Mara’s pulse quickened. The thrill of control, of knowing he was barely holding on, sent a surge of heat through her. Her hand stayed buried between her thighs, her fingers moving with a quiet, soft moan slipping past her lips. The other slid from his forearm down to his thigh, where she gripped his hardness through his jeans. The pull between them tightened like a cord, binding them together.
The car jerked. His hand twitched on the wheel, steering them into the left lane. He swore under his breath, yanking it back onto the road, but the brief loss of control sent a ripple of excitement through Mara’s body. He was losing it. Slipping. She felt a thrill swell through her, ready to catch him.
“Fuck,” Grant muttered, his voice thick and rough, almost a growl. The air was stifling now, so charged it felt like the car could explode with the tension between them. He glanced at her again, and this time his gaze was darker, more foreboding. His eyes lingered on the way her fingers moved beneath her panties, and Mara could see his restraint fraying, unraveling one thread at a time.
“Pull over,” she whispered, her voice low, breathless now, as the warmth between her legs built in slow, teasing pulses. She gripped him a little harder, a low, restrained grunt rumbling in his chest.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the car engine, her delicate moans, and the faint, slick sound of her fingers moving against her own skin. Her eyes lingered on him, waiting, watching his face. Would he do it? Would he finally give in?
Grant’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing on the wheel. The internal struggle was etched in the taut lines of his body, the tension gathered in his shoulders. But then, without a word, his foot lifted off the gas. The car slowed, the tires crunching over gravel as he settled them into a dark, deserted corner of a parking lot.
Mara’s pulse pounded in her ears, excitement buzzing through her as the car rolled to a stop. The streetlights barely touched this part of the lot, casting long shadows over the cracked asphalt and leaving them in near darkness. It was perfect. Private. Isolated. Just the two of them and the heavy, charged air between them.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The engine cut off, leaving them in thick, suffocating silence. Only a faint echo from a distant car disturbed the quiet, amplifying the stillness around them. Grant turned to her, his gaze dark and intense, his breath steadying as if he were preparing himself. His hand lifted, reaching toward her—but he paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face, a final moment of restraint hanging in the air between them.
But Mara was done waiting.
She unbuckled her seatbelt in one fluid movement and slid across the center console, straddling his lap, throwing her arms over his shoulders and around the headrest. He couldn’t stop her. Not that he was going to stop her. He wanted her. His body was stiff beneath her, tense with the effort of restraint, but the second her hips settled in, she felt what her hand had felt before. Hard. Eager. Ready.
A shiver coursed through her, warmth pooling deep in her belly as she moved against him, her thighs tight around his hips, feeling his heat through their clothes. She pressed her forehead to his, eyes searching his, daring him to look back. But his gaze drifted to her faint cleavage instead, avoiding hers. She could feel the difference—his body was strong, solid, unlike anyone she’d known before. Power radiated off him, barely restrained, and she thrilled at the thought that she was the one making him come undone.
Mara leaned in, her lips brushing against his neck, soft and teasing. She could feel the rapid pulse beneath his skin, hear the sharp inhale as her teeth nipped at his neck. He was losing control, finally. The tension broke with the sound of his groan—low and deep, a sound that sent a jolt of heat straight through her.
“You’re going to regret this,” he muttered, his voice rough, strained, even as his hands dug into her thighs, holding her firmly in place. But his words were hollow, a last-ditch warning that his body was already betraying—the way his hips bucked slightly beneath her, the way his fingers gripped her like he couldn’t let go.
Mara laughed softly; her sigh hot against his ear. “You promise?” she whispered, her hands sliding down to the waistband of his jeans, fingers deftly working the buttons. “Because I know you won’t.”
She felt his breath catch, his chest rising beneath her as she freed him, her hand slipping inside to wrap around the heated length of him, feeling the solid, pulsing weight of his hunger in her palm. His head fell back against the headrest, his eyes drifting closed as a soft, guttural sound escaped his lips, his body yielding to her touch.
Mara smiled, her breathing quickened as her hand stroked him, slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of him against her already damp panties. She shifted her hips again, grinding against him, teasing herself with the pressure, her pulse racing as her lips brushed his jaw.
“That’s it,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Give in to your desires. Stop pretending you can resist.” She felt his body tense beneath her, a shudder running through him, his fingers digging into her thighs as her words sank in.
“Mara…” Grant’s voice was rough, his breath ragged as his restraint crumbled. His hands slid up her body, fingers tracing the curves of her waist and rising slowly, almost as if he were still fighting himself. But when he reached her breasts, his grip tightened, betraying his true intent. She leaned in closer, her lips grazing his ear as her hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way he choked for air and his body tensed under her touch.
Every moan, every small surrender, fueled the fire inside her. She’d been waiting for this—the moment he would finally give in, finally admit what they both already knew. He wanted her. And he could no longer deny it.
She shifted her hips, feeling him squeeze harder against her through the thin fabric of her panties. But as much as she loved the heat building between them, Mara wasn’t done yet. She wanted more.
“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, hm?” With a sly smile, she tilted back behind her. Grant stuttered, but before he could say anything, before he could ask what she was doing, Mara’s fingers found the cool metal bar under the seat. Exactly where she knew it would be.
Mara gripped the handle, a sharp click echoing as the seat jerked back, pressing them closer. Grant’s eyes flew open, his hands shooting to her hips just as she pulled the latch to recline the backrest, taking him down. She let out a soft, breathy laugh, settling over him with her legs straddling him more comfortably, the space between them widening, granting her full control. Perfect. A thrill surged through her as she savored the delicious sensation of holding him under her power.
His hands loosened on her, surprise flickering in his dark, hazy eyes as the seat fully reclined. She could feel him shuddering beneath her, his chest rising and falling as realization set in—she’d planned every second of this.
Mara let her fingers slide up his chest, her cherry-red nails lightly grazing his skin through his shirt, teasing him as she settled into the new position. She gripped the hem of her shirt and slid it off her shoulders, tossing it in the backseat. Cool air brushed over her skin as she unsnapped her bra, letting her perky breasts fall free, her devious smile never leaving Grant’s gaze. “Better?” she asked, her voice soft, a playful sharpness lacing her words. She tilted her hips just enough to make him groan beneath her, the hard, insistent pressure of him against her core igniting a fresh wave of heat between her legs.
His eyes flickered with something darker now—something primal. His breathing quickened, hands gliding up her thighs and over her honeyed skin with a hunger that sent a thrill through her. When his fingers found her breasts, he squeezed, drawing a low, triumphant moan from her lips. Then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands slid down to her hips, pulling her closer with raw, unrestrained need. Mara shuddered at the feel of his strength, the way he held her like he couldn’t wait another second.
But she was still in control, and she intended to savor it.
With a wicked smile, Mara reached down between them, her hand slipping beneath the waistband of her panties again, rubbing herself. She shifted, gasping as her fingers slipped through the slick heat of her own craving, teasing herself for just a moment longer. She let him feel it too, as the back of her hand brushed against his cock, showing him just how ready she was.
“Mara…” Grant’s voice was rough, broken, his grip on her hips fierce as she moved against him. There was no more warning in his tone, no hesitation—just pure, raw need. He was holding on by a thread, and Mara was about to cut it.
She pushed off him, placing a finger on his lips. “Shhh…” she murmured, toying with him. Her hand left her panties, pulling them to the side to expose her hot, wet sex. She gripped him, positioning him at her entrance, her heart pounding as the tip of him pressed against her, sending a jolt of anticipation that made her shiver. Still, she held back, savoring the tension, drawing it out just a little longer.
For a moment, she wondered if Grant ever looked at Amelia…
