Page 112 of Broken Trails
Michael is relentless. “Zoe,please,” he whispers, voice all husky and low and way too dangerous for the back of a moving vehicle. “I need you. Been wanting you all night.”
My stomach flips. “Michael, stop.”
His mouth grazes my neck before I can pull away, lips warm against my skin, his teeth dragging along the base of my throat.Holy shit.I should push him off. I should tell him to stop. But I’m frozen. And I’d be lying if his words didn’t go straight to my core.
I’m notjustturned on. I’mpainfullyturned on.
“Need to have my mouth on you,” he mumbles, lips trailing along my jaw. “Wanna taste you again, wanna put my cock in your—”
I slap a hand over his mouth, eyes snapping to Isla’s in the rearview mirror.
“My, my. Shall I pull over?” she asks sweetly, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Absolutely the fuck not.” As I grit that out, Michael licks the inside of my palm. “Oh my God,” I yelp, yanking my hand away and smacking his chest.
Imogen’s cackling in the front seat now, with actual tears. Isla’s face is red, but she’s somehow managing to keep the car on the road. I’m mortified.Somortified.
Because they’ve heard everything. Every filthy, possessive, slurred declaration. And the worst part? Theveryworst part? I like it.
I’m so far gone, it’s embarrassing. And I don’t even care. Because this drunk, messy, way-too-honest version of Michael? He might be the first man who’s ever made me feel truly wanted—loudly, shamelessly, and without hesitation. And something about that feels dangerously good.
His hand is still on my thigh. Not just resting now,stroking. Squeezing. His fingertips skim the inside, just above my knee, before trailing higher, grazing over the seam of my shorts.
Isla clears her throat. “I’m not looking, just so we’re clear. So, you kids have fun.”
“Don’tencouragehim!” The words barely leave my mouth before Michael takes them as permission. He grabs my jaw with one hand, fingers warm against my cheek, and turns my face toward him. His lips crash into mine, and I gasp, caught completely off guard.
He tastes like scotch, mint, and trouble.
The kiss is messy. Sloppy.Hot. His tongue sweeps against mine with zero finesse and even less patience. It’s needy and possessive, and I should absolutely push him off. But I don’t.
Ican’t.
I kiss him back. Hard.
His piercing catches against my tongue, and my whole body reacts. I’d almost forgotten about it. Until now. The first time I felt it, I remember thinking it was different. Unexpected. A little wild. Now? It feels like trouble. Delicious, magnetic trouble. And don’t even get me started on what it feels like when he’s eating me out with it. I might combust just thinking about it.
His hand tightens on my thigh, and I moan into his mouth before I can stop it. Yeah, I’m in so much trouble. My fingers grip his shirt. His hand is still on my leg, pulling me closer like he’d crawl inside my skin if I let him. I eventually pull away, all breathless and stunned.
“Well,” Imogen says, breaking the silence. “Thatwent quiet for a moment.”
I rub the back of my hand across my mouth. “Don’t act like you didn’t hear it coming.”
Isla grins into the rearview mirror. “We’re almost home. Then you can have all the fun you want.”
Michael groans, head falling back against the seat. “I’m gonna eat her out until she forgets her own name.”
“Jesus Christ!” I slap his arm. “Michael!”
He leans in again, nuzzling his nose against my neck. “What? Imissedyou.”
Imogen is howling in the front seat. Isla’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. I glare out the window, cheeks flaming. I should be mortified. No. I am. We have established this.
But I’m also now clenching my thighs so hard I might snap in half.
Because despite everything—his filthy mouth, his slurred words, his absolute lack of shame—he’s not just saying it. Hemeansit.
And God help me… I want to hear every word.
