across my chest and the seat beneath me. Tendrils curl across my breasts and around my nipples, a sight his eyes snag on and can’t seem to look away from. “Your turn,” I whisper. His eyes drift back to mine and hold. He doesn’t look away, even as he lifts up and slides the hoodie over his head, exposing his bare torso. I suck in a sharp breath, the tattoos covering his corded muscles and the various scars are a sight to fucking behold. I want to know the story behind those scars. And wanting to know anything past how hard he’s going to make me come is terrifying. But I’ve always loved that feeling. I’ve always craved more of it. After some maneuvering, he kicks off his boots and socks and manages to wrangle his wet jeans down his legs. It’s a moment that would usually feel awkward, but with Zade, it only dries my mouth as he exposes his glorious body to me, inch by inch. Chests pumping in tandem, we look each other over, our eyes thirsty as he settles back between my legs—this time, with nothing between us. His mismatched eyes pin me against the seat. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. And that’s the problem. I don t want to. I love the way his fiery orbs trace over my body, like a paintbrush tracing the curves of a woman on a canvas. The wetness pooled between my legs is becoming too much—too heavy. Too painful. The quick fuck against the tree only took the edge off while simultaneously ramping up our need to toxic levels. “I’m waiting for you to bow,” I taunt in a husky whisper. His eyes dilate and his nostrils flare. My words hang in the air like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. A tense pause, and he snaps. He grabs my biceps and yanks me up. Turning me towards the gap between the driver and passenger seat, he directs, “Bend over between the seats.” I do as he says, keeping my knees on the backseat bench while I fit my body in the small gap between the two seats, planting my hands on either side for balance. Zade leans forward, grabbing the seatbelt on the passenger side and looping it around my body before clicking it in the driver’s side buckle. “What are you...” He shushes me, repeating the process with the driver’s side seatbelt. When he’s finished, I’m completely strapped in place, unable to move. It does allow me enough leeway to turn my head and look back at Zade. Like a king on a throne, he sits on the bench behind me, arranging himself between my legs so my ass 1s directly in his face. Butterflies hatch in my stomach at the sight of Zade sitting behind me, his legs splayed wide and his hard cock