Page 90 of Passenger Princess

It only takes a few more seconds of staring her down, of her contemplating arguing and reading me to decide I mean what I say and for her to hop her sweet ass in. She lets me lean over her, pulling the seatbelt and buckling her in, something she stopped bugging me about after we finally got together.

I like taking care of Ava. I like making sure she's safe.

But most of all, I like that she's willing to give me that piece of mind as well.

I stand straight before leaning in once more, pressing a soft kiss to her lips because I just can't fucking help it, her soft hand reaching up to graze my cheek as I do, a small sigh coming from her.

I could do it all day.

But I can't, so I pull back, slam the door shut, get in the driver’s seat, and start the car. Leaning to the back, I unzip Peach's carrier so she can explore whenever she wants as Ava lifts the book I bought her, flipping through it. I've pulled out onto the road when she sees it—a dog-eared page she opens up to as we bounce along old back roads leading to the highway.

"What..." she mumbles under her breath, and I know what shesees. A red tab I borrowed from her clear little pink bag with the pink fuzzy A on it, what she calls herannotation bag.

A paragraph is underlined, a detailed description of a woman being fucked against a wall, the man's hand around her neck constricting to reduce blood flow. And in the margins, a single scribbled word:tonight.

In my peripheral vision, her head snaps up and looks at me, and though I try to be casual and keep my eyes to the road, I can't fight a smirk. I've been waiting for this moment.

"What—"

"You said you've never tried the stuff in your books because you'd never trust a man to choke you. Think I've proven myself pretty trustworthy."

She stares at me, and I think, for what might be the first time, I've successfully shocked Ava Bordeaux.

An accomplishment, if there ever was one.

She's squirming in her seat, and since we stopped just barely a half hour ago to use the bathroom, stretch our legs, and let Peach do her business, I know it's not that.

"You good over there?" I ask, keeping my eyes to the road.

"Yeah, just fine," she says, her voice a high squeak.

Looking from the road to Ava once more, I catch the blush in her cheeks, the way her eyes are dilated reading the pages of her book, the way she's captured her lip between her teeth, the way her chest is rising…

Fuck.

I'm not ignorant of the types of books Ava reads. Some quick research and flipping through a few of them told me everything I needed to know, and that is that some of Ava's books are absolutelyfilthy.

And I chose this one intentionally after some in-depth researchduring one of the manytimes I was waiting around while Ava got ready.

"How's your book?" I ask, fighting a smile and a hard-on at the same time. That's the thing about Ava. She's the only woman I've ever met who can make me laugh and my dick hard in the same millisecond.

"Good," she says, too quick.

She's turned on.

The humor turns to heat, that fire stoked when she crosses and uncrosses her legs again.

"What’s happening in it?" I ask, and even to my own ears, it sounds rough.

"What?" she asks, the word even higher this time.

"What's happening in your book?" I feel her eyes rather than see them, and I feel the hesitation that she isn't sure how to answer, suddenly shy.

So unlike my Ava.

"Well, it's about a guy who—" she starts.

"No, what's happening in your bookright now?"

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