Page 44 of For The Weekend
When she understands the silent challenge, she slowly skims her palm up to my throat and splays it along the back of my neck, fingers sinking into the hair at the base of my skull.
“This okay?” she asks, and I close the distance between us. She turns in her seat, feet on the edge of the running board, and I place my hands on her knees, holding them opento make room for me between them and lower my head to hers.
“It’s good.”
“Maybe we should kiss to make sure it looks real,” she whispers, and I don’t need to be told twice.
My lips are on hers less than a second later, brushing and prodding at the plump pillows until she parts them, allowing my tongue to find hers. She tastes like sugar, and I have to mentally tell myself to relax my grip on her thighs. But then she makes this needy little sound in the back of her throat, and I forget all about what I’m supposed to do and drag her closer to me, gripping the sides of her thighs as tight as I want, pressing my fingertips into the softness of her hips.
She’s all heat and sighs, and it’s the best kind of torture, knowing she is as desperate for my tongue as I am for hers. She licks into my mouth like I’m her favorite ice cream, and my cock grows semi-hard because I know that’s how she’d lick my dick.
Fuck.
I pull away to find her breathing as raggedly as I am. I drag my hands over the sides of her face, pushing her hair away without an ounce of gentility. I’m a wild animal pawing over her, but she’s in my car and had her tongue in my mouth a moment ago.
She is mine.
At least for this goddamn family wedding of hers.
“How was that?” I ask, and she sways toward me as if drunk, biting into her bottom lip.
“Mm-hmm.”
I raise my brow, needing more of an answer.
She pats my pecs before swiveling in her seat to face forward. Then she giggles. “Yep. That’ll, uh…really show my family what’s what.”
That pulls a laugh from me. It sounds raspy, even to my ears. “Right. For your family.”
Still refusing to look at me again, she inhales audibly. “Just get in the car, Roman, before you make me blurt out something else neither one of us is ready to hear.”
I’m not so sure about that, but I do as she commands. “Whatever you say, sunshine.”
Chapter 13
Roman
I’m in the middle of filling out some paperwork for a car I inspected after an accident. I was told the driver is fine, but the car is not. It needs a lot of work, from the axle to the frame rails, a total safety system rebuild, as well as a complete replacement of the left side panels. It’s gonna run north of six grand, and I’d be surprised if the insurance adjuster doesn’t declare it a total loss.
This part of the job is necessary yet boring, and I’m so grateful for the reprieve of my cell phone ringing that I barely even look at my screen before hitting the button to answer.
Then it hits me all at once who it is when I hear the white noise.
Amy.
An automated voice fills my ear. “You have a collect call from an inmate at Champlain Valley Rehabilitation Facility for Women. This call may be monitored and recorded. To accept the charges for this call, press one. To decline, press two or hang up.”
I let out a breath and hit the number one.
“You may now begin your fifteen-minute call,” the voice tells me, and I sit on the edge of the seat, the usual anger and hurt twisting up my gut.
Then Amy comes on the line. “Hey, Roman.”
“Hi.”
“How are you doing?” she asks too brightly, and it annoys me.
“Fine.”
