Page 109 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Patient,” he answers, holding the door open for me. “Besides, if anything happens again, I want to make sure you can drive us to safety.” His cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Touché.” A wave of embarrassment washes over me, acknowledging his point. “Oh, it burns.” I squint against the sunlight that seems determined to sear my retinas.

“That’s what happens when you stay indoors for a week.” He chuckles, holding the car door open for me. “Have you let your wolf run?”

“No,” I reply, sliding into the seat. “Though I did shift for Eloise.”

Laughing, Brody closes the door behind me. I quickly stash my backpack under the seat as Brody opens his door. He notices the papers but chooses not to comment, instead looking at me.

“You shifted in the apartment?” Brody asks as he starts the car, pulling away from the curb and driving down the street.

“She asked,” I respond, my attention caught by the engine’s purr and the smooth rhythm of the car as we navigate the winding road. There’s an electric sense of anticipation between us, a shared excitement I can’t ignore. “All right, what do I need to know?” I ask, rubbing my hands together eagerly.

Brody shoots me a look filled with mischief, hinting at a lesson that promises to be about more than just driving. I’ve missed him—his scent, his smile, and the way he looks at me without any filters.

“First, let’s get to know the heart of the beast,” he suggests, his voice a gentle rumble akin to the engine’s hum. He gestures toward the dashboard, where the dials and displays seem to invite us to explore. “This” —he points to the tachometer— “measures the car’s heartbeat, and this” —his hand shifts to the gear stick— “is how you’ll whisper sweet nothings to it, coaxing out its full potential.” His analogy makes the car seem alive, a being that responds to touch and intent, much like the palpable tension between us.

He guides the car to a secluded spot on the side of the road and announces, “Your turn,” with a smile that promises both challenge and excitement. As we switch seats, the air crackles with unspoken promises.

As I settle behind the wheel, Brody leans in, his proximity overwhelming. “First, adjust the seat. You should be able to comfortably press the pedals and stretch your legs.” His hand brushes mine, sending a jolt through me, as we adjust the seat. The fleeting touch speaks volumes, acknowledging the start of a nuanced dance.

“Now, the mirrors,” he instructs, his breath warm against my ear as he helps angle them perfectly. “You want the best view possible. It’s all about perspective,” he murmurs, his words layered with meaning. The atmosphere thickens with unspoken thoughts and potential.

With the seat and mirrors set, he explains the functions of the clutch, brake, and accelerator. “The clutch is like a flirtation, the brake sets your boundaries, and the accelerator…” He grins mischievously. “The accelerator is when you’re ready to escalate.”

As I grasp the gear stick, ready to shift under his guidance, the driving lesson subtly mirrors a lesson in the dance of attraction. “Gently now, feel the car’s response,” he directs as I shift into first gear, the car responding eagerly to my touch.

Gripping the gear stick, I try to mask my nervous excitement. “Okay, here goes nothing,” I whisper, a mix of anticipation and anxiety swirling within me.

The moment I attempt to move the car, it jerks awkwardly before stalling completely, the engine shutting off with a judgmental sigh. “Oh, shoot.” I blush, feeling embarrassed.

Brody’s chuckle is warm and reassuring, devoid of any mockery. “It’s okay, happens to the best of us,” he says, his touch sending a familiar thrill through me. “Give it another shot. You have this.”

With a deep breath, I restart the engine, and this time, we smoothly pull away without any drama. “You’re doing great,” Brody encourages, his voice carrying a smile. “Take it easy, aim for the parking garage.”

Reaching the parking garage, I feel a small victory. I navigate through the dimly lit concrete labyrinth, finally spotting an open space. With a bit of maneuvering, I park the car and turn to him with a victorious grin. “I did it,” I announce, proud of my accomplishment. “Not bad for a first timer, huh?” Our eyes lock as we share a moment of triumph. I drove for the first time ever. Pride swells within me.

“Not bad at all,” he whispers, the silence between us heavy.

Suddenly, the air is charged, and his lips find mine in a fervent dance. His hands pull me closer, one tangling in my hair, the other gripping my waist. Our bodies meld together effortlessly, and he deepens the kiss, exploring the depths of our shared desire.

The intensity of our initial embrace is fiery, our passion undeniable, but as we find our rhythm, the frenzied urgency gives way to tender exploration. Each kiss feels like a discovery, each touch revealing new paths to a treasure we’re eager to uncover.

His hand traces up my back, eliciting shivers that reach the very core of my being. A gasp morphs into a moan as his fingers find the nape of my neck—a spot he knows all too well. He smirks before lightly grazing my lip with his teeth in a gesture that ignites a deep hunger within me.

Overcome with desire, I straddle him, our bodies responding to each other in perfect harmony. His growl vibrates through me, primal yet achingly tender as he draws me even closer.

“You have no idea what life is like without you, Ava,” Brody murmurs against my neck. “I missed everything about you.”

“I need you,” I whisper in response, my words a breathy promise as I draw him back into a kiss.

The undeniable connection between us threatens to overwhelm me, but I don’t care. I’m lost in the moment, craving his touch. This is what I need, the blissful escape he offers.

I’ve missed him, missed them. This week has taught me where I truly belong—with him, with them—but Ethan will have to wait a bit longer for forgiveness.

As Brody’s tongue invades my mouth with an assertive boldness, our bodies press closer, weaving a tapestry of unspoken desires. His hands wander beneath my clothes, igniting fiery trails on my skin. The friction between us builds, threatening to consume us with its intensity, yet it’s this raw passion that we crave—a dance of primal desire wrapped in the intimacy of our connection.

With trembling hands, I undo the fastenings on his jeans, freeing his arousal. Anticipation tightens within me at the thought of tasting him. His hands, equally eager, slide my lace underwear down my hips, the brief chill against my skin quickly replaced by the scorching heat of his body pressed against mine.

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