Page 96 of The Silent Note

The shame goes away, replaced by a roaring heat. Diving headfirst into that relief, I slam one hand against the backseat for balance. Arching my back, I move on top of him. He respondswith a half-groan, half growl. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement.

I take it as a little of both.

Unwanted thoughts spill out of my head, escaping in the trickles of sweat beading on my forehead. Seeping into the dampness of my underclothes.

I shed a layer.

Redwood Prep blouse, given to all the teachers.

Fitted knee-length pencil skirt.

I reach for Zane’s belt, eager to relive the night we first met.

The clang of metal fills the car and seeps between the cracks of our heated breathing.

My hands shake like a drug addict on the street begging for change. Mom, Jarod Cross, The Grateful Project, they’re so far away. Almost forgotten. I’d do anything to have Zane kill what’s left of those thoughts.Anything.

I don’t care that it’s broad daylight, that we’re in his brother’s car, that we’re only a few minutes away from Redwood.

No matter how wrong this is, something about Zane Cross has always done it for me. Since our eyes caught at the bar. It’s been months in the making. I’m wound tighter than a coil about to spring from the long wait.

I lean in to unzip him but Zane puts a hand on my shoulder. There’s a tortured, volatile energy buzzing off his skin. Like he’s at war with himself. Like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

“Why did you put on your wedding ring?” He speaks slowly, like he thinks I might have forgotten how to speak English. Like maybe we’re in two different worlds right now.

“These windows are tinted.”

“Grey.”

“Not grey. Black.”

He watches me like I’m being cheeky. I guess I am.

I slip my hands under his shirt. Skin on skin. Not enough. Not completely. “No one will know.”

“Know what?”

I swallow hard.

He twirls his fingers, moving that imaginary drum stick. “That we’re married?”

“Sure.”

Another twirl of his fingers. “You need to see that ring to be okay with having sex with me?”

I don’t deny it. “I’m assuming Dutch keeps protection in his car.”

He lets out a sardonic, breathy laugh.

A different kind of unease slides down my back. Zane’s not pleased, yet he’s not pushing me off his lap.

He just keeps staring at me with that serious expression that seems very out of place on his face under usual circumstances, but especially right now when all I want is for him to finally, fully take me as his wife.

Inspiring such a lack of control in me should be payment enough, but Zane seems determined to take more. Not that I even know whatmorehe’s searching for as he sits here, piercing me with those blue, blue eyes.

“You need this?” He asks quietly, darkly, with an edge of displeasure that sends agitation aflame in my stomach.

“Definethis.”

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