Chapter Text
The curtain swished closed behind them, flimsy fabric that did nothing to hide how close they suddenly were. The dressing room was narrow, mirrors lining two walls, a small bench pressed against one side. The air seemed to thicken the moment Chris let the curtain fall back into place.
Margo turned, half ready to scold him, only to find him leaning lazily against the bench, his shirt still open at the throat, sleeves rolled to his elbows. That grin, infuriating and knowing, curved at his mouth as his eyes dragged down the line of her body.
“Chris,” she whispered sharply, heat crawling up her neck. “You can’t just…”
“Can’t what?” His voice was low, velvet, pitched for only her. He tilted his head, dimples flashing as though he hadn’t just followed her into a space far too small for two. “Sit here quietly and watch you? You’re gorgeous, Margo. Pretend I’m just… appreciating the view.”
Her stomach fluttered and she tried to glare, but the tiny dressing room left her nowhere to run. She turned toward the mirror, tugging at the zipper of the dress she’d just slipped into. But even as she pretended to fuss with the fabric, she felt him, his gaze like a hand skimming her bare skin.
“Stop staring,” she muttered under her breath.
Chris hummed like he hadn’t heard. He shifted closer, his reflection suddenly looming behind hers in the mirror. His hand lifted, not to fix but to tug—he hooked a finger beneath her strap and slid it down her shoulder, exposing pale skin to the cool air.
Before she could protest, his mouth found the spot where the fabric had been, lips soft and deliberate. Heat bloomed at the touch, her breath stuttering as his teeth grazed lightly, as if claiming what the dress had only borrowed.
“Chris…” Her whisper cracked on his name, equal parts warning and plea.
His grin curved against her skin, his voice low, rough at the edges. “Couldn’t help myself. You’re standing here looking like sin wrapped in silk.”
Her knees weakened, but his hand was already at her waist, firm and steady, keeping her close. He drew back just enough to brush his mouth along her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin, his thumb sliding slow circles at her side as if he had no intention of letting her escape.
His mouth lingered just beneath her collarbone, teeth grazing before he soothed the spot with his tongue. The strap of the black silk slipped further down her arm under his fingers, and he pressed another kiss there, slow and deliberate, as if he meant to mark every inch she tried to keep hidden.
Her breath shuddered, a soft sound escaping before she could swallow it. He chuckled low against her skin, the vibration making her tremble.
“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing her shoulder. “Don’t hold back on me.”
His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, tugging her closer until the silk shifted and her chest brushed the open edge of his shirt. The warmth of him bled through the slick fabric, making her ache with each shallow breath.
“Chris…” She tried for steady, but it came out cracked, needy.
He tilted his head, his grin infuriatingly soft and hungry all at once. “Mm? You sound different than when you were telling me to get out a minute ago.”
Her cheeks flamed hotter, but instead of retreating, her fingers curled into the fabric at his chest, nails skimming the heat beneath. Her pulse raced as she tipped her face up to his, caught between mortification and want.
He caught her gaze, dark and sure. “There’s my girl,” he whispered, coaxing. “Knew you were in there.”
Chris’s lips skimmed higher, tasting the curve of her throat, lingering just long enough to draw a breathless hitch from her lungs. The silk strap slid further under his touch, the fabric no defense against the heat of his mouth.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the hollow just below her ear. “And I’ve barely started.”
Her hands, though, weren’t as passive as he thought. She let her nails tease his chest, drifting lower only to retreat again, keeping his breath uneven. When he pressed another kiss to her shoulder, she guided him back a step without him noticing, her palms against his chest, her body angling just right.
“Careful,” she whispered, though the faintest smile curved her lips. “You’ll ruin my dress before I even get to wear it out.”
Chris laughed softly, dimples flashing against her skin. “Not sure I mind that outcome.”
Another kiss, another small retreat of her step, until the backs of his legs brushed the edge of the narrow bench. He broke off with a soft grunt of surprise, dropping onto it without thought as she pressed closer, her knees sliding between his.
Realization flickered across his face. He’d been maneuvered, played by her gentler hand. His grin tilted wider, sharp with amusement and heat. “You little minx…”
Margo leaned down, her curls brushing his cheek as she whispered, “Maybe you’re not the only one who knows how to tease.”
Chris leaned back against the wall, letting the bench take his weight, but his eyes never left her. From this angle, standing above him, she was all long lines and silk, the hem of the black dress brushing his knees. He let one hand rest casually on her hip, the other trailing lower until his fingertips toyed with the edge of the fabric.
“Dangerous view from down here,” he murmured, voice thick with mischief. He tugged lightly at the silk, just enough to expose the smooth skin of her thigh.
Margo sucked in a quiet breath, her pulse hammering when his thumb stroked that newly revealed strip of skin. His touch wasn’t hurried. In fact, it was patient, maddeningly so, circling higher only to retreat, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“You should sit,” she whispered, trying to sound in control though her voice betrayed the heat beneath it.
He smirked, dimples cutting deep. “Oh, I am sitting. You, on the other hand…” His hand pressed more firmly into her thigh, coaxing her a step closer until she was bracketed between his knees, her dress tugged taut around her hips.
Her hands flew to his shoulders for balance, and that was all the invitation he needed. His lips brushed along the inside of her wrist, then lower, kissing the sensitive skin just above where her pulse raced. “See?” he teased, his breath hot against her. “You’re already leaning on me.”
Her fingers tightened in his shirt, but she didn’t move away. If anything, she swayed closer, caught between defiance and the fire he was stoking with every touch.
Chris’s fingers lingered at the hem of her dress, brushing the delicate silk higher by degrees. Each inch of exposed skin was a deliberate temptation, his thumb stroking slow circles against the inside of her thigh.
“Do you know,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on hers as if daring her to look away, “how impossible it is to have you standing here like this? Close enough to touch, but not close enough.”
Margo’s breath caught, her hands tightening on his shoulders. She tried for steady, but the shiver that ran through her betrayed her. “You started this,” she whispered, heat curling low in her stomach.
His grin deepened, wicked and boyish at once. “And I’ll finish it.”
Before she could protest, his hand slid higher beneath the silk, fingertips grazing dangerously close to where her body was already aching for him. The dress hitched up over his wrist, pooling higher, leaving her bare thighs parted around his knees. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting the line of her jaw, his voice low and rough.
Her cheeks flushed, but instead of retreating, she shifted, pressing herself between his knees, testing just how far he’d let her go. His sharp inhale told her enough.
And then, as if driven by something reckless and hot, she let her hands slip lower, down his chest, over his abdomen—until they rested at his belt. She toyed with it deliberately, the click of metal loud in the hush of the tiny room.
Chris’s eyes darkened, his smirk faltering into something raw. “Careful,” he rasped, though his hips tilted toward her all the same.
“Maybe I don’t want to be careful,” she whispered back, sinking just slightly, teasing herself as much as him.
His touch lingered maddeningly close, grazing the tender insides of her thighs but never quite where she ached for him most.
“God, Margo…you should see what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the silk at her hip as he bent forward. Chris let his breath skim the thin fabric. His thumb stroked higher, so close it made her knees weaken, but still he didn’t give her relief. “Feels like you want something...”
Her breath hitched, her hands finding the broad span of his shoulders, nails digging just slightly. “You’re cruel.”
His grin was sharp against her skin. “No. Just patient.” He pressed a teasing kiss to the inside of her thigh, just below the edge of the dress. “But I can wait longer than you can.”
The words lit something stubborn in her. Her hands slid down his chest, fumbling with the open placket of his shirt as if to steady herself, but when she reached his belt, her fingers stilled. They shook so badly she couldn’t work the buckle. Chris’s dark eyes caught hers, and with a low chuckle, he covered her hands with his own, guiding the leather loose with a practiced flick.
“There,” he whispered, his voice gone rough. “No shame in needing me.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t retreat. She tugged at the band of his trousers, pulling them open enough to slide her hand against the heat beneath. Even through the thin cotton of his briefs he twitched hard at her touch, a sharp curse leaving him as his head tipped back.
“Fuck…”
She watched the wet spot darkening against the fabric, her pulse racing as she traced it with a single fingertip. His hips jerked, the sound that tore from him ragged and raw. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hand, bringing her finger to her lips. The faint taste of him spread over her tongue—salt, musk, Chris—and she hummed low in her throat, her eyes never leaving his.
His jaw clenched so hard it ached, his fists gripping the bench at his sides. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he ground out, breath harsh.
But she only smiled faintly, savoring the way his control frayed. She leaned forward, her mouth brushing his collarbone, tasting the skin damp with sweat already. She kissed there, then nipped lightly, her tongue chasing after as her hand slid over the rigid length straining against thin fabric.
Leaning close, her lips brushed the shell of his ear, her whisper hot enough to make him shudder. “If you want more, you’d better keep quiet. Make a sound loud enough to draw someone here, and I’ll stop. You’ll have to wait until the hotel to feel me again.”
Chris’s reply was nothing more than a strangled exhale, his fingers digging into the bench as if to tether himself. His eyes burned into hers when she glanced up, dark and wild, but he didn’t make another sound.
Her tongue darted out, tasting the salt at his chest before drifting lower, closer, until her breath fanned across him. She stroked him again, deliberate, savoring the way his thighs tensed beneath her palm. Every twitch, every stifled sound, only drove her to push further.
Her hand lingered at the edge of his underwear, fingers tracing the waistband as though teasing herself as much as him. His breathing grew ragged, each inhale sharp, uneven, like he was holding back a plea.
She pressed her lips to his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, before letting her mouth wander lower with slow, unhurried kisses down the line of muscle until she hovered at his stomach. Her eyes flicked up, catching his, watching the way his jaw tightened, the way his fists clenched at his sides as though the act of staying silent was tearing him apart.
Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband at last, tugging lightly, not enough to free him, just enough to make him twitch beneath the thin cotton. He hissed through his teeth, his head tipping back against the wall.
“Quiet,” she whispered again, her voice a wicked breath over the damp fabric. “Remember?”
His answering groan was strangled, caught in his throat, and he nodded once, biting down on the sound.
Satisfied, she hooked her fingers into the band and tugged, slowly dragging the fabric down over the hard length that sprang free. The cotton slid inch by inch until he was bare before her, thick and straining, the tip already slick with need.
Margo’s pulse hammered. She let the briefs pool around his thighs, deliberately keeping her touch feather-light as she brushed her fingertips along him. He jerked at the first contact, a curse ripping through his clenched teeth, his knuckles white where he gripped the bench.
She smirked faintly, dragging her thumb through the bead of arousal at the tip, spreading it over him in a slow stroke. She thrived on how Chris struggled to keep himself quiet.
And then, without breaking eye contact, she brought her thumb to her lips and sucked it clean.
Chris swore under his breath, the word cracked and raw, his eyes dark with a hunger that nearly undid him.
Margo leaned down, her mouth grazing along the sharp line of his hip, teasing kisses that lingered just shy of where he needed her most. Her hand circled him again, stroking slow, savoring the way his whole body trembled under her touch.
He bent forward, his forehead pressing to the crown of her head, his voice a ragged whisper against her curls. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Her lips curved against his skin. “Then die quiet.”
She didn’t give him the chance to beg. Still stroking him with her hand, she lowered her mouth, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath the swollen head. His whole body jolted, a ragged curse tearing from his throat before he bit it back.
Margo hummed softly, savoring the taste of him on her lips, then finally parted her mouth and took him in. Slow. Deliberate. She let her tongue trace along the underside, wrapping around the thick weight of him as she sank lower by degrees.
Chris’s breath shattered, his chest heaving as his head tipped back against the wall. “Fuck…” The word cracked out of him, raw, as his fingers curled tight into the bench.
She drew back just as slow, her lips slick around him, then slid down again with unhurried patience. The wet heat of her mouth made his thighs tense beneath her palms, his control fraying with every inch she claimed. His hand finally found her hair, not pulling, just trembling there as though he needed the anchor.
“Christ, Margo…” His voice broke, hoarse with restraint, every word a plea for her to keep going.
She did, savoring each flick of her tongue, each muffled groan he couldn’t hold in. Her free hand stroked what her mouth couldn’t take, her rhythm steady, teasing, merciless in its patience.
Chris’s hips twitched, betraying him, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “God, you’re…” He cut himself off with a strangled groan, forcing the sound into his teeth.
Her eyes lifted, watching him through her lashes, reveling in the way he looked flushed, his breath tearing ragged from his chest. She hummed low around him, the vibration dragging a shudder through his whole body.
Chris swore harshly, his voice breaking into the fabric of his sleeve where he bit down to muffle it. His grip on her hair tightened, trembling as she worked him in a rhythm he couldn’t hope to withstand. The slick heat of her mouth, the wet sounds filling the cramped space, every drag of her tongue—it was too much.
“Margo…” His voice cracked on her name, strangled and rough. “I’m not…fuck…I’m not gonna last.”
She hummed around him, the vibration sending him straight over the edge. That was all it took. His hips jerked once, twice, his entire body going taut as he spilled into her mouth with a guttural sound he couldn’t swallow down.
Her hands anchored him, stroking him through the shudders while she swallowed everything he gave her, unflinching. When he sagged back against the bench, chest heaving, she finally pulled back, licking her lips deliberately as her gaze lifted to his.
He looked wrecked. His face was flushed as he panted, sweat damp at his temples and his shirt clinging where it had slipped half open. His jaw worked soundlessly, eyes dark and wild as he tried to catch his breath.
“You…” His voice rasped, shaking as he reached for her face, thumb brushing the corner of her slick mouth. “You’re lethal.”
Margo only smiled faintly, kissing his thumb before standing, silk clinging to her thighs as she smoothed it down. She leaned close, her lips brushing his ear, her whisper hot and merciless.
“Now you owe me.”
His laugh was hoarse, broken, but his hand still caught her waist, anchoring her even as he tried to breathe again. “Oh, I’ll pay up,” he promised, his voice raw. “With interest.”
“Quiet, or we’ll get caught,” she teased, slipping past him to smooth her hair in the mirror, as though her knees weren’t still trembling.
Chris sat back down heavily, running a hand over his face, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to regain control. By the time she’d pulled herself together enough to step out of the fitting room, he’d buttoned his shirt and pants fully, the dimples back in place but his eyes still dark, unfinished.
The tension simmered between them as they paid and walked through the boutique, her hand brushing his deliberately light, playful. He only squeezed back once, his jaw tight, and didn’t say a word until they slid into the car in the echoing hush of the parking garage.
The quiet tick of the engine filled the shadowed garage, the whole world pared down to the low light and the frantic beat of her heart. Chris sat back in the driver’s seat, his chest still rising fast, one hand gripping the console like he was fighting himself.
Margo shifted toward him, brushing her fingers along his jaw, her smirk small but knowing. “You’re awfully quiet.”
His hand left the console, catching her wrist before she could pull away. He kissed the inside of it, his lips lingering at her pulse. “Trying to remember why I shouldn’t drag you into the backseat right now.” His voice was ragged, half laughter, half truth.
“Maybe because you still owe me,” she whispered, the tease sharp enough to pull his gaze back to hers.
Chris exhaled hard through his nose, a shaky grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re not going to let me off easy, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Instead of letting go, his hand trailed from her wrist down the line of her arm, settling over her knee. The heat of his palm bled through the denim, steady and sure. Slowly, deliberately, he slid higher, his thumb brushing circles that made her breath catch.
“You think you can just walk out of there after what you did to me?” His voice was low, coaxing, almost a purr. He leaned in, lips grazing the edge of her ear. “I should make you wait. Let you squirm until the hotel.”
Her smirk deepened, daring. “Maybe I’d like that.”
He chuckled, the sound rough with want. “Liar.” His mouth skimmed her jaw, his words warmer now. “You’ll be gasping my name in minutes.”
She tipped her head, lips brushing his in a whisper of a kiss. “Funny, I thought I already wrung you dry back there.” Her hand slipped over his thigh, slow, deliberate. “Didn’t think you’d be ready for round two so soon.”
Chris groaned, the sound breaking low in his chest. “Sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what you started.” His hand clamped higher on her leg, his thumb stroking dangerously close to her core. “Backseat. Now.”
Her laugh was breathless, taunting. “You sound desperate.”
“Damn right I am.” His voice dropped to a growl, his forehead pressing to hers. “Get in the backseat before I take you right here.”
The pulse between her thighs jumped at the threat, her body betraying her smug smile. She slipped away from his touch, sliding out of her belt with deliberate slowness. His eyes tracked every move as she pushed the door open, slipping into the back with a glance that dared him to follow.
Chris cursed under his breath, shoving his own door open a second later. The slam echoed through the garage, his footsteps heavy as he circled around. By the time he opened the rear door and climbed in after her, the air between them was already molten.
Chris slid in beside her, the space of the backseat suddenly much too small for how much heat he carried with him. The door thudded shut, enclosing them in shadow, the faint glow from a garage light cutting across his jaw
He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the seat by her hip, his voice a low rasp. “You think you got away with that back there? Dropping to your knees, sucking me dry like it was nothing?” He dragged out the words slowly, deliberately, as though savoring each one. His other hand caught the hem of her cardigan, tugging it open inch by inch. “You nearly had me coming undone in a fucking boutique, Margo.”
Her breath hitched, her smirk faltering into something softer, sharper. She bit her lip, trying not to shiver as the cardigan slipped off her shoulders.
Chris’s mouth brushed her ear, his voice hotter now. “I owe you. And not just once.” His fingers toyed with the button of her jeans, not undoing it yet, just circling slow, teasing. “I’m going to make you feel everything I felt. And then some.”
Her thighs pressed together, a betraying sound slipping past her lips. “Chris—”
He chuckled, dark and low, sliding the zipper down with unhurried precision. The sound filled the tight space, her chest rising faster as he grazed her hip bone with his knuckles. “Already breathless,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth, tasting the edge of her smirk. “You don’t even know how much more I’ve got left for you.”
Her laugh was faint, shaky at the edges. “And here I thought you were the one who was finished.”
Chris’s grin cut sharp in the low light, dimples flashing before his mouth pressed to her jaw. “Finished? After that mouth?” He nipped lightly at her throat, his hand easing her jeans lower with infuriating slowness. “You think I don’t have more left in me for you?”
Her breath caught, her body betraying her despite the quip on her lips. “Maybe you should prove it.”
“Oh, I intend to.” His teeth grazed her skin again, his words dragging heat into her bones. The denim rasped against her thighs as he tugged them lower, inch by inch, until cool air kissed the thin scrap of fabric beneath.
Margo squirmed, trying to shift away just to keep some ground, but Chris only pressed closer, his voice dropping to a growl that thrummed against her ear. “Careful. You wriggle like that, and I’ll forget how slow I wanted this to be.”
Her lips parted on a soft sound she hadn’t meant to give, her chest rising fast under his shirt where it brushed her. She tried for bravado, her hand sliding over the front of his jeans, fingers grazing him through the fabric. “I didn’t hear you complaining in the dressing room.”
His groan broke out before he could stop it, his hips twitching against her palm. He caught her wrist, kissed it hard, then pressed it back to her own thigh. “Tease me all you want,” he murmured, nudging her jeans lower until she was nearly free of them. “You’re still the one who’s going to be begging first.”
The jeans slipped down her calves, pooling on the floor mat. She gasped when his hand returned, sliding up the inside of her thigh until his thumb brushed hot against damp lace.
Margo leaned back against the seat, her lips curving slyly as she brushed her palm deliberately across the front of his jeans. The thick ridge beneath made her breath stumble, and her smile faltered into something hungrier. “Mm,” she hummed softly, eyes flicking up to his, “seems like you’re not as calm as you’re pretending to be.”
Chris hissed through his teeth, his jaw tight as he pressed into her hand for a heartbeat before catching her wrist again. “Don’t test me.” His voice was low, almost a growl, but the twitch beneath her palm betrayed him before he pulled her hand away.
“Maybe I like testing you,” she whispered, biting her lip, heat sparking in her eyes.
“Yeah?” His mouth brushed her ear, the words sending a shiver straight through her. “Then you’ll love what happens when I stop playing.”
Before she could fire back, his hand slipped under her shirt, dragging the hem of it higher. Every inch of skin he uncovered, he kissed—her stomach, her ribs, the curve just beneath her bra—slow, torturous, his teeth grazing as much as his lips.
Her fingers curled tight in his hair, her breath hitching. “Chris…”
He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes, his thumb brushing at her hip bone as though marking her there. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said with a grin that was half-devil, half-boyish charm, “I’ve got plenty left in me. And I’m going to make sure you feel every bit of it.”
Margo shifted closer, lips brushing along his jaw as her fingers traced the hard outline straining against his jeans. “Still think I’m the desperate one?” she teased, her voice feathering hot against his ear.
He groaned low, his hand flexing against her thigh. “Keep talking like that and see what happens.”
Her smirk trembled when his fingers finally traced beneath the edge of her panties, brushing her slick heat just enough to make her breath stutter. He kissed the sound from her lips, slow and consuming, while his hand teased her with maddening precision.
“Chris—” It broke from her in a gasp, her hips jerking toward his touch.
“That’s it,” he rasped, the words swallowed between kisses. “You’re already shaking for me.”
When she tugged harder at his shirt in answer, he only chuckled against her mouth, sliding his hand deliberately to her hip. His thumb hooked the band of her panties, dragging the fabric down an inch, then another.
Her breath hitched. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, though her tone betrayed how much she wanted him to.
“Wouldn’t I?” His grin was wicked, his voice husky as he tugged the last scrap of fabric away and tossed it aside. The sight of her bared for him in the low light nearly undid him. “God, Margo… you’re perfect.”
His hand cupped her again, bare now, and the sharp cry it pulled from her lips was swallowed by his kiss.
Chris’s fingers skimmed over her, bare now, the heat of her slick against his touch making his jaw clench. He swallowed hard, his forehead pressing briefly to hers as though he needed the anchor.
“Fuck, Margo…” His voice was rough, reverent in its hunger. “You’re already so eager for me.”
Her breath hitched, a broken sound slipping free as his fingers traced a slow circle that made her thighs tense. She tried to bite her lip to stay quiet, but the way his touch coaxed her left her trembling, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“You like this,” he murmured, his tone almost smug, almost undone. “The way I make you squirm. The way you can’t hide a damn thing from me.”
Her gasp was answer enough, her hips canting toward his hand, chasing more. Chris smirked faintly, watching her unravel under nothing more than his fingers. The scent of her—sweet, thick, dizzying—filled the air between them, making his own restraint splinter.
“God…” he cursed under his breath, dragging his mouth across her jaw, down her throat, tasting her pulse as his hand worked her with deliberate slowness.
When she whimpered, he groaned, the sound guttural. His lips hovered at her ear, his words spilling raw. “I can’t just touch you, not when you smell like this. I need to taste you.”
Before she could answer, he eased her back across the seat, spreading her thighs with his hands. The sight of her glistening in the low light made his breath catch, and then he was lowering himself, burying his mouth between her legs.
The first flick of his tongue had her crying out, her hand flying to his hair. Chris groaned against her, savoring her, his hunger consuming what little patience he had left. “Fuck,” he muttered against her, his voice muffled but thick with need. “Better than anything I imagined back there.”
Margo's reply came as a shuddering moan before she could stifle it. Her body arched helplessly into his mouth as he began to devour her in earnest. Her hand shot to his hair, fingers fisting tight, and he only growled in approval, pressing deeper. His tongue worked her with merciless precision, circling, teasing, driving her higher until her whimpers filled the shadowed car.
Every time she tried to clamp her thighs shut, his grip tightened, forcing her open. Every time her voice cracked, he hummed against her, the vibration rolling through her core until she was trembling.
“Stay quiet,” Chris murmured between licks, though his smirk brushed hot against her. “Or you’ll have the whole garage knowing how good I’m making you fall apart.”
Her nails scraped his scalp, her lips bitten raw as she tried—and failed—to swallow the cry that broke when his fingers joined his mouth. He slid them inside her, curling just right, dragging another sharp gasp from her chest.
“God, yes,” he muttered against her heat, tasting every desperate sound. “That’s it… let me have it.”
The rhythm of his hand and mouth pushed her higher, faster, her body clenching helplessly around his fingers. Stars burst behind her eyes, her cry muffled against her wrist as she broke, shuddering hard beneath him.
Chris slowed only when she slumped back against the seat, spent and shaking. He kissed her one last time there, slow and savoring, before lifting his head. His lips were wet, his grin devastating in the low light.
“Debt paid,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against her trembling thigh. Then, with a wicked gleam, he added, “Hotel’s for interest.”