A Different Kind of Right

The car rocked slightly with our movement. Straddling him, pressed together like that was exhilarating. I wanted it to never stop.

I could feel the warmth of Chase's body under me and all around me. My skin lit up with it. His hands—gentle but insistent—slid up my sides, down my back, cupped my butt, then back up. I arched into his touch and tilted my head to deepen the kiss. My breath heaved. I would have been embarrassed about how frantic I was to be close to him, but I was too busy feeling the delicious tingles anywhere he touched me. They followed his fingers like the tail of a comet, twinkling out in a long, slow fade.

I rocked my hips and he made a noise in his throat that send my adrenalin spiking again. I dropped my head to kiss my way down his neck, unzipping his fleece so I could get closer to his chest. He tilted his head back, but he also said my name in a strangled voice. Like a protest. But I refused to let him slow me down.