If Zach’s cock grew any harder, he’d burst out of his jeans and fuck Colette on the bench seat of her truck. He’d tried distracting himself with views of the boring road, glimpses of more houses perched in the swamp, counting potholes, anything but the woman sitting next to him smelling of sex and sin. And looking at his lap with longing. The scent of her arousal was thick in the air, the constant shifting of her legs as she drove and those sly, hungry glances were enough to leave him with sweat trickling down his back. He clutched his knees, his fingers pressing deep, hoping a little pain would distract him. Then she peeked over at him again, her tongue pressing to her sexy upper lip. He bit back a whimper. He’d spent a lot of time thinking last night as he ran all over trying to replace the traps he’d broken and the equipment he’d ruined with his possessiveness. All that thinking had been about Colette, about why she of all the women he’d known touched off the need to own her, to put his mark on her in some way.
