“New riding lesson,” I mutter before my mouth meets his and I press against him. My clit hits just right against the firmness of his shaft and I’m quick to rock up and back once more. His hands return to my hips, and he guides me as he heavily exhales. He glances down at us. Me in his lap. Him surging upward.
We both seem trapped in the memory of what it once felt like to have him inside me.
“God, I fucking want to fuck you.” His words are harsh but soft, almost a prayer of need, and they bring me quickly back to the precipice.
“You might . . . I think . . . this never happens.” I’m lost in my head as my body takes over and rubs against him like I can erase layers of fabric and drive him into my body. “Zebb?” I’m suddenly questioning everything. His name. My purpose. The meaning of the season.
“That’s it, Eva. Again.” His fingers press at my hips, rocking me faster over him.
My breath hitches. I gasp and then I’m spiraling out of control again like the red stripe swirling around a peppermint stick. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he thrusts upward once, twice, three times before he stills. Exhaling heavily near his ear, I hear him grunt and a jolt against my sensitive folds tells me he let go.
My forehead presses to his right shoulder while his head leans against mine.
“Was that a lesson in handling a stick shift?” I whisper.
Zebb begins to chuckle against my shoulder. Then he throws his head back and lets out a good laugh, one jostling the both of us as I remain in his lap. He leans forward for a quick kiss and then pats my backside.
“I might have some napkins in my glove box.”
I take his meaning and shift off him, wincing at the stretch of my thighs. I open his glove compartment and pull out a wad of thin paper napkins.
He tugs his shirt upward and I glance away allowing him some privacy. He softly laughs. “Don’t think this is going to make a bit of difference.” He tucks the used napkins beneath the seat, and I face him.
His eyes spark in the dim light within the truck.
“Why do I feel eighteen again?” He’s staring at me when he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. But I’d never want to go back.” The words immediately feel like the wrong thing to say. I don’t mean anything against him. It’s just if I went back to eighteen, I’d only lose him all over again. “That didn’t come out right.”
He softly harrumphs and tips up his chin watching me another second before looking at the fogged-over windshield. His hand dangles over the steering wheel and he swipes a finger over the condensation.
“Should we get back to the game?”
Why do I feel like I’ve just kicked Rudolph?
“Think half-time is over?” I reach for my hat and tug it back over my head.
“The third quarter is probably finished.”
My mouth falls open. “What will they think we were doing?”
He rolls his head and then tilts it.
“Oh my God. This is so embarrassing.”
“Still embarrassed to be seen with me?” He falls back against the seat and reaches for his cap.
“What? No. Why would I ever be embarrassed to be seen with you?” I sigh. “You were the one who didn’t want to be seen with me.”
He slips his hat on his head and peers over at me. “That was never the case, Eva.” He huffs. “You didn’t let me take you out.”
Is he serious?“You never asked me out.”
“I did.”
“You did not.”
He climbed my fire escape like my own personal Romeo. Or maybe Tony coming for Maria. And I opened the window and let him in. We didn’t go out. My bed was our restaurant. My shower a movie theatre. We touched. We had sex. But we didn’t date.