Page 47 of Bulletproof Love

What feels like inches at a time, he manages to push the car up the ditch and back onto the road. Once we’re on flat ground, I shift the car into drive and straighten it out as best as I can, moving us to a safe spot along the shoulder.

Jasper comes around the driver’s side and I slide back over. He’s panting, red-faced and hair wet from snow. God, he’s never looked hotter.

“I can’t believe you did that.” There’s genuine shock in my voice.

“Told you,” he says, partially out of breath.

“I stand corrected.” I adjust the vent so that it’s blowing toward him. “So what now? There’s gotta be at least four inches out there.” He chuckles, and I immediately know why. Exasperated, I sigh. “Just say it.”

“Hell of a lot more than four inches inhere.”

“You’re a child,” I say, holding back a smile. He rolls up his damp sleeves, showing off his tattooed forearm, so perfectly muscular that I have to look away. “Really though. What now?”

“Heat’s running, we have a mostly full tank of gas. We should try and get some sleep until they clear the roads or the sun’s up, whatever comes first.” Without waiting for my response, he reclines the seat almost fully. So many thoughts run through my mind but mainly how easy it would be for me to straddle him in that position. Also to strangle him.A straddle, strangle combo.

“We should at least text Blake and the guys so they don’t worry,” I say, forcing myself to be logical.

“Go ahead. Check up on Kayla while you’re at it.” My heart lurches at the reminder. Poor thing. I hope she’s okay. I type out a quick message to our group chat and put my phone on the dashboard.

Moonlight shines through the sparse branches overhead, illuminating the falling snow. It’s pretty fucking peaceful now that I’ve slowed down enough to notice. The kind of peaceful that almost makes me forget everything else exists in that moment.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, exhaustion and awe in my voice.

“Yes, it is.” The warmth in his voice has me turn to face him. He’s not looking at the moonlit snow. His eyes are fixed on me.

Heat creeps up my neck, to my face. “You’re supposed to be looking out the window,” I manage, hoping I sound unaffected by his intensity.

“I like this view better,” he says softly.

Suddenly, the car feels too small, too hot. My limbs are heavy with fatigue but my pulse is racing, the charged air between us making it impossible to look away from him. Images from earlier flood my mind—Jasper’s weight hovering over me, the delicious friction as he rocked against me, the wet slide of his hard length through my soaking pussy, how he could barely hold it together, his restraint shattering with each movement.

Knowing his cum is still painted on my skin, like a branding mark, drives me wild. He was so close to pressing into me. And I wanted it, even there, like that in front of all those terrible people. If he sunk inside me, I would have welcomed him with open arms.

He reaches out and drags his knuckles down my cheek, cupping my chin with his calloused fingers. A ragged breath leaves my lips as every ounce of resolve snaps like a broken rubber band. I don’t care what happened months ago. Right now, we’re here, stuck in this car, and I can’t deny what I want.

“Come over here,” he breathes. “Please.”

I shift onto my knees, the leather seat creaking beneath me as I gather my dress higher on my thighs. With one fluid motion, I turn and settle onto his lap, my knees bracketing his hips. My pulse pounds with anticipation as I stare down at his perfect face. I arch my brow and slowly roll my hips, deliberately teasing him. “I’m here. What are you going to do about it?”

“You’re going to ruin me, Trouble,” he whispers hoarsely. I hear the plea in his voice, the desperate need. “No doubt in my mind.” He cradles my face gently, his hooded eyes begging me to break down every wall he’s ever built.

“We shouldn’t,” I say, as my fingers trail down his shirt, working his buttons open one at a time. His chest heaves beneath my palm when I finally reach his warm skin. “But I need you too much.”

He pulls the side lever, angling the seat up so we’re chest to chest, inches between our lips. I raise my arms, and he pulls the hoodie up and over my head, leaving me in just my sleeveless dress. His hands scorch my skin, sliding over me, down the slope of my neck, over my arms, and back up burying into my hair. It’s like he’s trying to memorize the feel of my skin beneath his palms. He pulls me closer, ghosting his lips over mine, but freezes as I close the distance.

I pull back and look at him.

“Don’t kiss me again unless this is real,” he says, breathless. I blink, my head foggy with want and need. I breathe out and lean against his neck, sucking his warm skin between my lips until he hisses.

I work to open his shirt, and he pushes up, helping me. In seconds, his shirt and my dress are off. Our hands are all over each other, ripping off my bra, undoing his pants. I don’t kiss his lips. I can’t promise him what he needs. He’s not ready for that and neither am I.

He cups my tits, rubbing his thumb over my peaked nipples. “Fucking hell, these tits are a work of art.”

I’m so needy, I grab his head, arch my back and shove my tit into his face. “Suck them. Please… I need—oh God.” The warm heat of his mouth envelops my nipple, sucking and nibbling until I cry out. I wrap my fingers into his hair and hold him in place, greedily grinding my pussy against his fabric-covered length. “That feels so good.”

He lifts me slightly, not breaking his hold on my tit, and slides my thong to the side. As soon as his fingers glide between my lips, he breaks away from my tit with apop. “Goddamn, baby. You’re soaking wet for me.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “You like that?”

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