KAISER

Okay, I get it. She thinks she's getting to me, that she's making me vulnerable because I choose to be kind to her. Does she believe she can protect herself on her own?

"You fucking do," I yell, confused, right in her beautiful face. She smells so good; it's hard to pull away from her.

What do I have to fucking do to show her how naive her thoughts really are?

"No, what I need is space between us," she fires back, her enraged breath heavy in my face. I take in all of it, all of her is amazing to me. "God, I need a cab," she mumbles to herself after we exchange a long, challenging stare, and she turns away from me.

I can't, I just can't stop myself.

I go for her waist and grasp her firmly until I feel her body molding against mine, the only thing between us are the cursed clothes I wish didn't exist at this moment.

I can feel her heart beating against me. I can see the excitement and lust she tries so hard to squelch.

I know she wants this. I want it too. We don't need space—we've had too much of that already.

Her lips tremble as she rises onto her toes. It's clear she's fighting with her choices, but her fingertips can't resist the temptation. She reaches for my hair, twirling the locks gently. Those surprisingly soft eyes fall on my lips, and hers instantly part.

Fucking hell, in a good way.

My whole life, this is the strangest feeling I've ever had to digest. I can't say I've processed what it is, but I know it's something I don't intend to have snatched away from me.

I know that because she pulls my head down, her hands around my neck, until all I can smell is that glorious scent that reminds me of the good old days.

My eyes close involuntarily, and then I feel her tongue sweeping over the surface of my lips—slowly, tenderly, with the power to control my racing heartbeat.

I feel restrained standing here, my clothes suddenly too tight on me.

Fuck, only she can make me feel this way.

I can't stand it any longer. I pull open the back door and push her onto the seat, joining her and closing the door behind me.

It takes me a second to breathe before she tugs the hem of my black shirt up. She's too small to reach and too greedy to stop, so I help her pull the fabric over my head and hover over her, our lips colliding with every desire that lives in our cells and muscles.

She's eager; I'm desperate. Her hands caress my bare chest, pulling me closer. She digs her fingers into my skin as if the proximity isn't enough. It isn't—I need more too.

It's like we have no memory of the past. All we want is something we used to believe could be real. Now that we have the chance, I let myself take pleasure in the intimacy.

I kiss her tenderly yet deeply, with everything I have in me. I knead her hard nipple through the fabric with one hand and cup her ass with the other. She moans softly into my mouth, grinding her hips against my restrained dick, begging for release. Easy, man—not so fast.

It feels like heaven's kind of torture.

If she keeps moving, I might come in the next few seconds, so I stop her by the waist and unbutton her jeans, granting myself access to her surprising wetness.

She lets out a sudden gasp, her head falling back as I thrust a finger into her pussy, stroking her slowly and gently.

"KC," she cries in the foggy, closed car.

"Call me Kay, and I'll make you come." I know it's pathetic, but I've been looking for a way to hear her say it, even though I make her believe I don't care.

"You don't... You don't want that," she moans, her breath hitching.

"I like it when you say it," I whisper, kissing her neck and chin, holding back the groan in my throat as I pleasure her.

"Okay, KC seems odd anyway," she murmurs, biting her lip and releasing the plump, reddish flesh I can't resist.

"What's my name?" I breathe in her ear.

She cries out but manages to mumble, "Kay."

"Good. You want to come?" I taunt her further.

"Please, yes, please, Kay," she nods repeatedly, sending a stinging sensation to my dick. Fuck, I need her so bad.

I add another finger and increase the speed. Her pussy clenches tightly around my fingers—I know she's close. Her eyes are screwed shut, and her perfect lips form a perfect 'O'. Fuck, literally fuck. I find myself coming at the sight of Daisy's greatest ecstasy.

What the fuck is wrong with me? What is she doing to me?

She shudders as I lean in, attaching our lips again. I let myself savor her flavor.

She pants into my mouth, holding me tight until she regains consciousness while I nibble the nook of her neck.

It takes almost a whole minute, with us still cuddling in each other's arms, before she says anything. She just breathes beneath me.

But whatever has a start must come to an end, and then I hear her whisper in my ear, "I have class, I think I should go."

Yeah, that's a way of saying, 'I regret this, I think you should get off me.'

I have to swallow the thought of her absence beneath me in the next second.

But she asked, and I can't be an asshole and play dumb, so I pull back and watch her clumsy fingers as she composes herself. I catch a glimpse of panic, regret, and everything that doesn't equate to happiness in her eyes, though she avoids looking at me as she begins to climb out of the car.