Page 5 of Enspelled

Now you could kiss her, and there would be no interruption.

A car door slams, and my focus snaps to the side. My eyes settle on the elderly couple wandering this way, cheerful smiles on their faces.Fuck.

Only one thing for it.

I slide my hand around Briar’s nape and jerk her face down to mine, our lips smashing together.

She freezes against me for a second, maybe two. And then she sighs and softens, her arms winding around my shoulders.

Eyes closed, I keep my attention on the tourist’s crunching steps as they move this way. I focus every bit of control I have to hold still, to not kiss Briar the way I want to.

The footsteps stop. Two shocked gasps announce that the couple has seen enough, and then they move toward the Madden Grove Wood.

I hold still a little longer, conscious that Briar is kissing me with lips so soft and sweet that I’m trembling with the need to kiss her back.

But I don’t.

She’s naked and straddling me.

If I give in to my need, I know what will happen in this truck. Never mind that it’s the afternoon and we’re in public. I won’t be able to stop myself.

When I’m certain the tourists won’t be back, I shift Briar to the passenger seat before turning away. “Wait here. I have some clothes in the back.”

Without waiting for a response, I shove the truck door open and climb out. She doesn’t say a word.

I take my time rifling through the duffel I keep in the bed of my truck, more to give myself a chance to quiet the raging erection threatening to punch a hole through my pants.

Finally, I snag a black t-shirt before hesitating over a pair of sweatpants. Not because I don’t think they’ll fit, but because it’ll mean covering up even more of her skin.

And you were snapping at her about being controlled by instinct. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

I grab the sweats before rounding the truck.

Briar has scrunched herself in her seat with her head lowered. She makes no move to raise it or even look my way. Considering how rosy every inch of her skin is, I’m not the least bit surprised she’s desperate to avoid eye contact.

“Here.” I toss the t-shirt and sweats toward her before closing the truck door and turning my back to give her some privacy.

Less than a minute later, faster than I believed anyone could dress in the constraints of a front seat, she’s clearing her throat.

I pull open the door, and a glance reveals her drowning in my clothes.

Clothes that mean she now smells like me.

Or that she’s mine.

“Where are we going now?” she asks in a small voice, distracting me from dangerous thoughts.

“My cabin.” I climb into my seat and slam the door shut. “I didn’t tell the owners I’d checked out, so I’m still paid up for another day.”

She’s silent as I pull out of the parking lot. The scent of her arousal has faded a little, but there’s still enough of it lingering in the air that I know she must still be thinking about what nearly happened in the truck. I know I am.

“We can go to my house,” she offers before I can make the turn that will take us back to the rented cabin we left early that morning.

It feels like a lifetime ago we were back there, and not just a matter of hours.

I glance over at her. “Why there?”

She’s gazing out of her window. “I think I’d just like to go home. I mean, with Diana dead, I guess—”

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