Chapter 13 13
POV Katherine
We left the bar without exchanging a single word.
The vibrant music faded behind us, along with the laughter of my friends, the buzz of alcohol, and the sound of conversations. Everything evaporated in the instant I felt his hand rest firmly on my hip, guiding me through the crowd with an authority that made my entire body shudder.
It wasn't a crude touch, but it wasn't innocent either. No, if just moments ago he'd touched my ass… and I'd let him. It was possessive, deliberate. It was him. And I, against all logic, allowed it, feeling my skin prickle under his palm.
We crossed the parking lot so slowly that I thought we'd never get there. The night air kissed my exposed skin, a welcome coolness that contrasted with the fire burning inside me, but it couldn't extinguish it. He led me to a car I didn't recognize; it wasn't the sports car he usually drove for our lessons—this was another sports car, just as flashy and luxurious.
"Get in, Mrs. Ellis," he ordered in that deep voice that vibrated in my chest, opening the passenger door with a fluid gesture.
He helped me in, his hand on my elbow sending sparks up my arm. Once seated, he leaned over me to buckle the seatbelt.
But it wasn't just a practical gesture.
His body invaded my personal space, filling it with his overwhelming presence.
His face mere centimeters from mine, his warm breath brushing my cheek.
His arm brushed—accidentally or not—my breast, the contact sending a wave of heat straight to my belly.
His other hand rested on my thigh, firm and warm, his fingers spreading slightly over the fabric of my skirt, as if claiming territory. A moan caught in my throat, escaping as a choked sigh. My traitorous body arched subtly toward him, craving more.
How perverse, Katherine!
"Let me…" I whispered, my voice trembling, without real conviction. "I can do it myself."
But he didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers slid with agonizing slowness up my skirt, pretending to search for the seatbelt buckle, but exploring, testing. His cheek almost brushed mine, his masculine scent—a mix of subtle cologne and something inherently wild—enveloping me like a fog. I saw the predatory gleam in his eyes under the interior light of the car.
Then, without warning, his fingers rose to my face. They brushed my jaw with a delicacy that contrasted with his strength, then traced the outline of my mouth. His thumb lingered on my lower lip, pressing gently, parting it as if assessing its fullness, inviting me to imagine it between my teeth.
"You're trembling," he murmured, his voice a low purr that reverberated in my core.
"I'm not," I lied, but my body betrayed me: a shiver ran through me, my nipples hardening under the dress, my pulse racing between my legs.
With a definitive click, he fastened the seatbelt, but his hand remained one second longer on my thigh, squeezing slightly before withdrawing. Only then did he pull away, leaving me panting, the air returning to my lungs in irregular gasps.
He circled the car and sat behind the wheel, his presence filling the cabin like an imminent promise. My heartbeats thundered in my ears, a drum betraying how nervous I was. Wasn't it better to leave in a cab, run away from here before committing madness?
No, I stayed, seated, watching him.
I didn't speak for what felt like eternities, until my voice emerged, hoarse and broken.
"Take me home," I said, avoiding his eyes, fearing he'd see the hunger in mine.
Elliot started the engine, the car's purr vibrating beneath us like an extension of the tension between our bodies.
I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes in a vain attempt to calm myself. My head was spinning: the alcohol, the frenzied dance, the press of his body against mine on the floor. I needed not to think, but it was impossible. I felt him there, so close, his heat radiating toward me.
I opened my eyes to distract myself, and it was a fatal mistake. His hands gripped the wheel: large, firm, with prominent knuckles and veins bulging under the skin, the watch strapped to his wrist.
Hands made to dominate, to explore. Hands that, moments ago, had claimed my thigh, my face. I imagined those same hands sliding under my skirt, parting my legs, deft fingers finding my wetness, pressing right where I needed it most. A liquid heat pooled between my thighs, my breathing becoming shallow.
No. I couldn't think like that. It was Elliot. My student. Forbidden. But the barriers blurred in the darkness of the car, desire clouding all judgment.
My husband… I had a husband! And my body was betraying my vows.
Silence enveloped us as the car devoured the road. I didn't know how much time passed until he braked gently. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the familiar silhouette of my house.
But no.
We were in an elevated, isolated spot, with panoramic views stretching out like a tapestry of lights. The city sparkled in the distance, a sea of earthly stars.
"Where are we?" I asked.
He got out of the car, circling it with confident steps, and opened my door. He extended his hand, his warm palm inviting me.
"We made a little stop," he said, his tone casual, but his eyes burning.
"But… you said you'd take me home."
When was this going to stop? Why was I still going along?
"And I will. But first… come with me, Mrs. Ellis."
I couldn't resist that order. I took his hand, allowing him to help me out. He positioned himself behind me, his hands returning to my waist, holding me with a possession that made me gasp. His chest pressed against my back, the outline of his arousal subtly pressing against me, reminding me of what I provoked in him.
Why was he still like that… so hard? Had he been that way the whole drive?
"I'm dizzy; I can't even open my eyes," I warned, though it was more the vertigo of desire than the alcohol.
"I know," he whispered against my ear, his hot breath brushing my lobe, sending shivers down my neck. "Just a minute. Open your eyes."
"I'm scared," I confessed, my voice a thread.
He wrapped an arm fully around me, his hand rising along my side, brushing the side of my breast, holding me so I wouldn't stagger. His other hand slid over my abdomen, stopping just above my mound.
"I can take you to the edge," he murmured, his voice a sinful whisper seeping into my blood. "But I'd never let you fall."
God… Elliot.
I stayed frozen, my body ignited, my sex throbbing with need. That whisper, that heat, his breath dancing over my sensitive skin. He wasn't a boy; he was a man who knew exactly how to disarm me, how to make my body respond to his will.
Why?
"Open your eyes, Mrs. Ellis, please," he insisted, his voice piercing me like an intimate caress.
I did, and a sigh of awe escaped my lips. The city unfolded like a sparkling jewel under the starry sky: thousands of twinkling lights, winding streets, the silver reflection of the river, imposing silhouettes of buildings. Everything seemed tiny, distant.
"It's beautiful," I murmured, my voice broken.
"It is," he agreed, but when I turned slightly, his eyes weren't on the view. They were fixed on me, devouring me with an intensity that made me clench my thighs.
His hand rested on my cheek, caressing it with torturously slow motion, as if memorizing every curve. His thumb descended, tracing my lower lip once more, pressing until I involuntarily opened my mouth, imagining his tongue invading me. He said nothing, and it wasn't necessary. Neither did I. I just felt: his incendiary touch, his suffocating closeness, his heat seeping through my clothes, awakening every nerve ending.
I could push him away, yell that this was madness, that it wasn't right. But I didn't. I stayed there, wrapped in his arms, in the silence broken by our accelerated breaths, with the world at our feet… and my body burning, craving for him to cross the line, to take me right there against the car, under the stars.
He lowered his gaze to my mouth, I to his. For an eternal second, I thought he'd kiss me, that his lips would claim mine with the same ferocity as his touches. He didn't.
"Now I'll take you home, Mrs. Ellis."
Home.