He asked if I’d ever seen The Fast and The Furious. I shrugged and said, probably. His lips curled into a sexy smirk as he leaned across the seat to open the door for me. I figured I hadn’t lived dangerously enough this year so I climbed in, the leather of his seat pushing my skirt higher up my thighs. I counted the seconds it took for his eyes to leave my skin.
We didn’t say anything but the air was thick with possibilities as he eased us from the parking lot and out into the highway. We drove down the empty road in silence. The only noise was a deep rumble from his engine so strong I felt it at the base of my spine. It was difficult to sit still.
After an hour of sexually charged silence, he hit a button and his sunroof opened. He stared at my shaking thighs and licked his lips.
I knew what he meant so I pulled myself up through the opening, my feet straddling the center console. The air was cold and stole my breath but as he sped around corners and windy mountain roads I’d never felt more alive.
His hand slid up the inside of my calf and knew when he pulled into the overlook that my body was about to be claimed by a master.
Afterward, when he took me back to my car, there were no words that needed to be said. No thanks to be given. He was a man who had worshipped the night and the night shone brighter for it.