Sugar on the Edge(36)

“What about the paddles?”

“I’ll let you try those later. Right now, we’ll just leave it in automatic.”

After I put the car in drive and check my side mirror to see that no traffic is coming up on me, I gingerly push on the gas pedal and the engine screams as it leaps forward. I immediately hit the breaks in surprise, which causes the car to slam to a stop, throwing Gavin forward, his hands slapping hard on the dashboard.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim.

Gavin busts out laughing and pats me on the leg. “The accelerator is very responsive. Give it a gentler push.”

I try again, softer this time, and the engine hums for me as the car creeps forward. I put on my blinker and slowly merge onto the highway, gradually accelerating up to the speed limit.

My hands grip the steering wheel with white knuckles as I realize all of a sudden that I’m driving a $140,000 vehicle.

Then they start to sweat.

“Relax,” Gavin croons at me. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t want to wreck your car. It would take me a lifetime to pay it off,” I mutter.

“That’s what insurance is for,” he says casually. Then he demands, “Go faster.”

I push a little more firmly on the accelerator and the Maserati leaps under my request, the engine growling sexily at me. I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.

“Nice, right?” Gavin says.

“Oh, yeah,” I agree, and my smile goes wider.

“You’re fucking sexy as hell,” Gavin says so softly that I almost doubt I heard him right.

I turn to spare him a glance… and his eyes are pinned on me, the gray irises darkened, even with the noon sun sparkling bright. I swallow hard, because it’s the same look he gave me the other night, when I told him to touch me between my legs.

A tingling sensation spreads out from the back of my neck and my thighs involuntarily clench together, as I turn my eyes back to the road.

Gavin’s left arm raises up and his fingers skim along the back of my neck, pushing upward over the base of my skull and sifting through my hair. “Have you thought about the other night?” he murmurs.

My hands grip the steering wheel harder and my foot eases up off the accelerator a tiny bit, but words are stuck in my throat. I’m afraid to say anything.

“I have,” he admits softly as he shifts in the seat and leans closer to me. “I’ve thought about it a lot. About what I could have done differently.”

“Gavin—” I croak, but he cuts me off.

Bringing his right hand across, he places it on my knee and starts sliding it up my thigh. My pulse skyrockets and my foot actually falls off the gas pedal, as it’s almost impossible for me to concentrate on driving while he’s touching me.

“Speed back up, Sweet,” he whispers as he leans closer and sticks his nose under my ear. “Don’t want a cop to pull you over for going too slow.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he insists quietly, and his hand travels higher. I blink hard and push the gas pedal, getting my speed back up to within a normal range.

My legs fall open a bit to give him easier access and within just a moment, his fingers sit at my hipbone. His index finger strokes back and forth over my brown tights, but I can feel the burn of his touch all the way through to my soul.

“Let’s do this a little differently,” Gavin says with his finger moving softly against the inside of my thigh. “I really want to touch you and all I want from you is to say ‘yes’.”

“Oh, God,” I gasp out as his finger drifts over to press up against my center.

“Say ‘yes,’” he urges, his lips now against my ear, and I’m helpless.

“Yes,” I moan.

Gavin sits up suddenly and pushes my skirt all the way up so it bunches around my hips. “Lift yourself up a bit,” he growls.

I do as he commands, my foot pushing down on the accelerator inadvertently, causing the car to jump forward.

“Easy,” he chuckles, and I let up off the gas a bit.

Taking both of his hands, he pinches at my tights with his fingertips and with a grunt, jerks at the material, causing it to rip right at the inside of my thigh where it meets my hip.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, and I glance down to see him pulling one edge of the tights away from my skin with his left hand while his right hand tunnels in.

“White lace panties,” he murmurs as his finger slips under the edge. “And they’re damp. My favorite kind.”

I can’t help the half sob, half moan that comes out of my mouth, and he tries to comfort me by leaning forward and kissing me on my lower jaw. “Easy, Sweet. We’re just getting started.”