WREN
I pressmy cheek against the cool leather seat, blatantly staring at Crew Lancaster, not caring one bit that I might look foolish. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Drinking in all the male beauty sitting in front of me is almost overwhelming, he’s so attractive. I love how his cheeks turned slightly pink thanks to the cold air, making him look younger. Softer.
Though there’s not much about Crew’s face that anyone could consider soft. He’s all hard angles and sharp lines. High cheekbones, firm jaw and square chin. Dark brows that are currently lowered as he watches me, those cool blue eyes growing warmer the longer he stares, as if he likes what he sees.
I like what I see too.
The only thing I can consider soft on Crew’s handsome face is his mouth. His lips are pink, the lower lip much fuller than the top, and they’re currently parted, his gaze lingering on my mouth until it lifts to meet mine.
My body grows warm, and not just because of the thick coat I’m wearing. He’s thinking about kissing me. I know he is. And it’s all I want. I want to know what he tastes like. What kind of kisses will he deliver? Soft and sweet? Fierce and rough?
Maybe a combination of both.
“You keep staring at me like that and…” His voice drifts.
“And what?”
His broad chest rises and falls, as if he just took a deep, maybe even nervous, breath. “I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”
“Tell me what you want to do to me.” Even though it scares me a little, I want to hear every single dirty word he can come up with.
All of them.
He glances over at the driver. “I don’t want to say it out loud. You might get embarrassed, Birdy.”
“I won’t. I promise.” I press my thighs together, trying to ease the sudden throbbing, but it only makes things worse. “Whisper it in my ear.”
Crew reaches out, his hand going to the seatbelt buckle and undoing it. I shrug the strap away from my body, letting him take my hand and pull me closer. Until I’m sitting in the center of the back seat, and he’s strapping me back in, his hand brushing against my chest as he pulls the belt across me, then pushes the buckle into the slot.
We’re sitting so close I can see the stubble lining his cheeks. Feel his body heat seeping into my side, making me even hotter. We stare at each other, the tension growing between us, and I swallow hard, ready to say something, when he leans in, his mouth at my ear, his soft exhale making me shiver.
“I want to kiss you. Taste you. Kiss your neck. Nibble it. Run my hands under your sweater, slip them under your bra, until I’m squeezing your tits. Pinching your nipples.”
I avert my gaze, my breaths coming faster.
“I’d take off your sweater. Your skirt. Kiss you all over your body. Tell you how fucking beautiful you are, because you are so damn beautiful, Wren. The prettiest little birdy I’ve ever seen.”
I close my eyes, savoring his compliment.
“I’d slip my hand beneath your panties and find you soaking wet. All for me. I’d finger you until you’re begging me to make you come, and when you eventually explode all over my hand, I’d make you lick my fingers clean.”
My eyes fly open to find him watching me, his gaze dark. Intense. I glance down at his lap to see he has an erection.
Oh God. What would he do if I reached over and touched it?
He moves even closer, his mouth brushing against my earlobe and I bite back the moan that wants to escape. “After I fucked you with my fingers, I’d fuck you with my tongue. I’d lick you from front to back, until you’re screaming and coming so hard you almost blackout.”
My heart races, my chest rising and falling so fast, it almost hurts. He pulls away, his gaze finding mine once more as he says, “That’s what I would do to you. For starters.”
There’s so much promise in his expression. In his words. And I realize I don’t want to be promised to my father anymore.
I want this boy. I don’t care if it doesn’t last. Maybe I don’t want it to.
I just want to know what it feels like to have a man make me come. To feel his soft hair brush against my thighs as he lavishes my most private spot with his tongue. His fingers. I want to touch him. Everywhere. I want to feel his mouth on mine, his tongue thrusting.
Without thought, I lunge forward, reaching for the beanie still on his head, tearing it off, exposing his rumpled hair. I thrust my hands into the silky softness, straightening it as best I can, not saying a word. He lets me, remaining quiet as well, his eyelids falling shut briefly when I continue stroking his hair, as if it feels good.