I leaned in, my breath hot against her ear. "I'm trying to drive you insane." My fingers traced the waistband of her jeans, just barely dipping beneath. "I want you squirming in that seat the whole drive. Aching for me. Dripping for me." A dark chuckle rumbled in my chest. "I want you to feel every fucking mile between here and Texas."
Her breath hitched, her thighs pressing together like she could ease the ache—but we both knew she couldn't. "It's working," she admitted, her voice rough, needy.
Emily turned away—but not before I saw the flush crawling up her neck, her nipples pressing against her bra. She yanked at her short jeans, the frayed denim clinging to her like a second skin, riding so high the pockets might as well have been underwear.
Then the checkered shirt—two sizes too small, the buttons straining over her full tits, her cleavage spilling between the gaps. Full Texas Girl looks.
"Fuck," I hissed, my cock twitching at the sight.
