I grin. “I wouldn’t go that far. I think it’s a combination of having too many other things to worry about plus realizing the inevitable—that I’m going to see you whether or not he approves. I think he’s given up. At least for now. And as long as I behave.”
Sawyer gives me a sidelong glance and slides his hand on my thigh. “Oh?”
And just like that, my whole body tingles. It’s been a while since Sawyer and I have had some time alone. I try to swallow the instant desire in my throat but it rushes up again. “I guess what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
I lean toward Sawyer and watch him driving, the outline of his profile lit up by streetlights. I resist the urge to trace my finger down his sexy chin, run my hand through his thick, dark hair.
He turns to look at me. His lips part when he sees my face, and I hear him take in a short breath. “Jesus, Jules,” he says, and his grip on my thigh tightens and inches up.
“Pull over,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs in response and he peers ahead, looking for a place to stop. He pulls into the parking lot of a closed factory and parks in the shadows of the building.
I unlatch my seat belt and climb over the gearshift to straddle Sawyer’s lap as he adjusts the driver’s seat as far back as he can. And then I’m touching his face, nipping his lip with my teeth, drawing the tip of my tongue across his. His seat belt unlatches and I slide it out from between our pressed bodies, between our hot lips, and fling it aside, barely flinching as the buckle hits the window.
Sawyer kisses me hard, and when I move my lips to his neck he moans and reaches up under my shirt, his cool hands on my bare sides, and I can’t think, I can only breathe and taste his skin and fumble with the buttons on his shirt with fingers that are shaking. Finally I rest my face against his hot bare chest and imagine us naked together. For the first time, it doesn’t seem too weird. A thrill rushes through me from my thighs to my throat. I guide his hand up my side and press it against my bra, and through the fabric his thumb stumbles over my nipple. I suck in a breath.
“Oh, God,” he says, and his body convulses under me. I bury my face in his neck and kiss him, run my tongue along his collarbone and my fingers up and down his sides under his shirt. He adjusts again and I grip the waist of his jeans and kiss him full on the mouth as he pushes against me, breathing hard. His hands pull me toward him and he searches with blind fingers for the clasp of my bra.
“It’s two hooks in the back,” I whisper, my lips against his ear. I don’t even know what I’m saying, only that I want him to succeed, I want him to touch me. He finds the clasp and wrestles with it until I help him, and then his hands are cupping my breasts and his hips are grinding, pushing up against me, and I feel mostly euphoric and a little scared as something deep inside me builds.
I rake in a breath and move my jeans against his, like I’m controlled by some other force of nature, and then Sawyer’s breath turns ragged and he wraps his arms around me and holds me to him, thrusting his hips and gripping mine, and I find his rhythm and try to match it, feeling weird about it but also wondering if this is a little bit like what it would be like if there weren’t any clothes between us. But I don’t want to stop and analyze that now.
Waves of lust rush through me and I want to be closer to him, touching him, my body becoming one with his body. I open a few buttons of my shirt, as much as I feel comfortable with, and press my chest against his, roll my hips with him, and I feel so beautiful and free. His breathing grows deeper, heavier, and it’s thrilling and scary all at the same time to watch him react to me in this way.
But then he buries his face in my shirt and gasps, “Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, SHIT.” And then his torso jerks and shudders and his gasp turns into a low moan. “Oooh. Faaahck.”
I don’t know for sure what’s happening at first, but even though I’m not an anatomy expert, I think I have an idea. I ease back against the steering wheel and peer at him. “Are you okay?”
His eyes are closed and there’s a pained look on his face. “Shit,” he groans, and lets his head fall back against the seat. He brings his hand up to cover his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “God, Jules. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know that could . . . you know, happen, without actually, you know. Touching it.”
I bite my lip, not sure what to do now. Sawyer shifts and gingerly slides his hand into his jeans. He cringes. “Well, that’s awkward,” he mutters. I ease off his lap and back into my seat, twist my jeans back into place, turn aside, and hook my bra. My lips tingle. I button up my shirt. And I’m not exactly the Sahara Desert in my pants either.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about what just happened. Flattered? Disgusted? I definitely don’t feel disgusted. I feel . . . smarter. Like I’m beginning to figure things out. Applying book knowledge to real life, like Mr. Polselli says, except, ew, let’s not think about him right now. But I like knowing what happens. I like knowing how things work. Cause and effect. That’s probably weird, isn’t it? But I feel like if I understand what’s going on with this whole sex thing, I can figure out how much of it I want to take part in, and I can plan better.
I glance at Sawyer to see if he’s done doing whatever needed to be done. He’s buttoning up his shirt. And then, from his still reclined position, he lolls his head sideways and gives me a sheepish grin. “That was not in the plan,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He raises his seat back to an upright position. “So, um, basically,” he says, like he needs to explain, “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but being within, like, fifty feet of you makes me want to have sex with you pretty much all the time. I think that’s normal. And I guess even just the hotness and nearness of you combined with the amount of, um, friction and stimulation that occurred,” he continues in a scientific voice, his face flushing, “through no fewer than two hearty layers of denim protection, well . . . I guess that was enough to just wake everybody up down there and have ’em throw a party.”