Page 115 of Guarded Love

"You’re not going to tell me why you picked this spot?" he asks, still avoiding looking at me.

I shrug, then pick imaginary lint from my coat sleeve to give myself something to do. "I like the view. Also the chance of anyone else being up here was pretty small."

"Ah, so you just didn't want anyone to see us," Blaise says. He says it flat, quiet, and it could almost be a joke, but there’s nothing funny about the shape of his mouth.

"Well, it's not like we're subtle when we’re around each other," I say. "Somebody would notice eventually." I keep my eyes on the trees, finger tapping the steering wheel.

That’s what makes Blaise look at me. "That makes sense since I’m sure whenever we’re in the same space, my eyes will always find you. I haven't stopped thinking about you," he says. "I thought it would fade after we got back, that once we were back to our routines it would be…easier."

"Has it been?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral when it feels like I’m handling dynamite.

He shakes his head. "No. Not for one second."

I suck in a breath and watch it fog up the driver’s side window. “Not for me either," I admit. There. I finally said it out loud. "If anything, it's worse. Every time I walk past my mirror, I think about you because I remember…"

"Your mirror, huh?" he murmurs, and I can feel the heat in his words.

"Yeah." I rest my forehead on the steering wheel for a second. "This is so fucking stupid, Blaise."

“It is, but what other option do we have right now? You want to face your brother? I have no issue with that, but I know how you feel about it unless you’ve changed your mind.”

I haven't changed my mind about Knox, but sitting here talking about it feels like we're wasting precious time. My hand moves before I can think better of it, reaching across the center console to rest on his knee.

The moment my palm makes contact with his jeans, his entire body goes rigid. I glance down and notice his hands are clenched into fists on his thighs.

"You're gripping your legs like you're about to launch into orbit," I observe, letting my thumb trace a small circle against his knee. "What's that about?"

He lets out a ragged breath as if he has the whole world on his shoulders. "Willow…"

Thank fuck he let me change the conversation topic. "What? I'm just asking a question." I slide my hand higher, just slightly, watching the way his breathing changes. "You're sitting there all tense like you're afraid to move."

"I'm not afraid."

"No? Then whatareyou doing?" I lean closer, close enough that I can smell his shampoo. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're trying really hard not to touch me."

His eyes finally meet mine and there's something dark and hungry in them, which is the best way I can describe it. "Maybe I am."

"Why? Are you going to keep pretending this is just a casual conversation, or are you actually going to do something about the fact that we're finally alone?"

Something snaps in his expression. The careful control he's been maintaining since he got in my car fractures, and suddenly his hand is covering mine, pressing it firmly against his thigh.

"You want to know what I'm doing?" His voice is low and rough. "I'm trying not to drag you into the backseat and fuck you until you're screaming my name loud enough for the whole county to hear."

The crude words send heat straight to my pussy. "And what's stopping you?"

"The fact that it's fifteen degrees outside and your car windows will fog up so fast anyone driving by will know exactly what we're doing."

I laugh, surprised by how turned on I am by his restraint rather than frustrated. "And that’s why I picked this place. You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?"

"I've thought about nothing else for over two weeks." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Every night, every morning, every goddamn time I close my eyes."

The confession makes my confidence surge. I shift in my seat, angling my body toward him more fully. I lean across the center console and brush my lips against his ear. "Then maybe you should stop thinking and start acting."

Before he can respond, I'm already moving. The confined space of my car makes it awkward, but I manage to climb over the console and settle into his lap. Thankfully, we are in my car because there’s no way I would have been able to make it work if he was in the driver’s seat. The look of shock and desire on his face makes every uncomfortable angle worth it.

"Willow—" he starts, his hands automatically reaching for my hips.

"Nope." I catch his wrists, pressing them back against the seat. "Hands stay right there. On the seat or on your thighs. Don't move them."

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