The car glided smoothly along the city roads despite the growing weekend traffic. Saturday mornings were rarely this busy, but today, cars lined up at every intersection, merging in a slow, chaotic dance.
Having spent so many months abroad, Jane had almost forgotten what it felt like to sit in traffic on a weekend.
Today's drive in Vernon's car felt drastically different from the night before. Last night, she had been exhausted, cold, and utterly lost as they sped in the opposite direction. Now, she was tense and drained, but the sense of disorientation had been replaced by a gnawing irritation and restless frustration.
She chewed on her lower lip, still able to faintly feel the smudge of whipped cream from earlier, as if his touch lingered there, unwilling to let go.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she found the soft leather strangely rough against her skin, the sensation unsettling. But she knew the real problem was not the seat—it was him.