Date Me Like You Mean It

He rounds the front of the car and I watch him like cornered prey as he tugs his door open and takes his seat. The car purrs to life and I sit perfectly still, hands on my lap, breath caught in my throat.

Surely, we won’t continue right here. His windows aren’t even all that tinted. People are walking by us on the sidewalk.

Aiden doesn’t pull away from the curb right away. I think he’s considering what to do.

I peer over at him from beneath my lashes and watch as he inhales sharply before putting the car in drive and pulling out onto the road. His hands clutch the steering wheel harder than necessary. I know he’s suffering. That moment in the bathroom was about me, and now he’s the one who has to stave off his desire that much longer. I lean over and touch my hand to his knee. His thigh tenses and he looks over, a look of warning in his eyes.

The condo isn’t far from here. He can wait but…he shouldn’t have to.

“Pull over if you don’t think you can drive,” I say, letting my hand slowly skate up his denim-clad leg.

I watch his breathing hitch as my hand moves higher, reaching his zipper. I palm him through the thick fabric and his hips roll to meet my touch. I have to lean over and use both hands to unbutton his jeans and slide his zipper down. He’s wearing gray boxer briefs, and I glide my hand over the front of them as he inhales sharply. His foot hits the brake hard as we come to a stoplight, and I use the moment to my advantage, sliding my hand over the coiled muscles of his stomach and then lower, down inside his underwear and over his silky hard length. His body jerks, and I still my hand as the light turns green.

His hand covers mine and he starts to move me up and down, encouraging me. I tighten my grip around him and pump, and his hips follow my hand.

We turn another corner and his hand leaves mine to grip the wheel. I watch his face as my hand stays on him, moving. The line of his jaw and cheekbones are sharp. The tendons in his neck stretch as he tilts his head, trying to regain some semblance of control. The condo is just up ahead, just another turn and we’re in the parking garage underneath the building.

Aiden pulls into a spot in guest parking and slams on the brakes.

It’s too bright down here, still too populated. A group of women walk out of the building, laughing, and I move my hand, my cheeks turning bright red as they load into the car directly beside ours. Aiden has zipped up his pants again by the time I glance back over to him, but now it’s a new challenge: get to the condo as fast as we can. Aiden takes me up the delivery elevator that has an entrance right inside the garage.

He remembers all the shortcuts from his time living here: the stairwell to avoid, the fact that our front door jams if you don’t turn the key exactly right. We’re inside and it’s jarring to see him backlit by the space we used to share together. He and I are back here again, but the circumstances have changed dramatically.

He laughs when he catches himself leading me to his old room.

“Lucy would love that,” I tease as I push him in the direction of my bedroom. “She’d die of shock.”

His mouth curves into a teasing smile and then we’re at the threshold of my room, finally allowed to touch in ways we’ve been wanting to for the last hour.

Clothes fly immediately. Aiden ruins my dress when he yanks it off, stretching out the neckline. Then he kisses me before I finish undressing, turning me so that I’m up against the bedroom door. He’s pressed in behind me, shrouding my body with his.

I arch my neck and he kisses my lips as he tugs my panties down my hips, pushing them until they fall to the floor.

Then his hands cover my body, keeping me in place as he grinds his jean-clad hips against mine. I hiss in pain. The denim is rough against my sensitive skin, and he’s not being gentle. Not at all.

We have a perfectly good bed that’s a few feet from where I stand, but Aiden can’t make it there. He pushes down his jeans, angles himself against me, and thrusts inside me, a shocked gasp escaping before I can help it. I’m up on my tiptoes, trying to meet his thrusts, but he’s relentless.

Our fingers twine together on the door as he pulls out and pushes back in. For a split second, we’re perfectly synced up, our bodies connected as much as they physically can be. Then he tugs himself out again, only so far that he can get the leverage he wants. His pace picks up and my body rocks against the door. My cheek presses against the cold wood.