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“I’m waiting for confirmation from Mr. Coleman,” he says. “One of my dad’s lawyers. He’s supposed to be digging deeper. But until then…” He trails off, running a hand down his face. “It’s just a waiting game.”

I try to wrap my head around it. The way he carries himself, the sharp edges of his personality — it all makes sense now. He’s been living with this uncertainty, this storm of doubt, and I don’t think anyone knows what he’s going through.

I squeeze his hand. “Who else have you told?”

A humorless laugh escapes him. “Just you.”

I stare at him, chest tightening.

Then I move.

I shift onto his lap, straddling him, the fabric of his jersey bunching between us. His hands find my hips automatically, holding me there, like he needs the anchor.

His eyes flick to mine, something unreadable behind them.

“You’re getting hard again,” I whisper.

His grip tightens. “You’re on my lap. What did you expect?”

I bite my lip, shifting slightly, and his breath hitches.

“You sore?” he asks, voice low.

“A little,” I admit. But I don’t stop moving.

His jaw locks. “Sienna—”

I sink down onto him and rock my hips.

His breath punches out, his hands flying to my hips as he groans, his head tipping back against the couch.

And just like that, everything starts again.

Eli’s parked across the street from my house, engine off, the only light coming from the dim glow of the streetlamp. It’s late — almost four a.m. — but neither of us has moved to leave. My legs are draped over his lap, my back pressed into the passenger seat, and he’s kissing me like he has no intention of stopping. Deep and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of my mouth.

His hands slide up my thighs.

“You keep making those noises, and I swear to God, I’m gonna fuck you again right here,” he mutters, his lips brushing against mine.

I squirm when his fingers trace higher, grazing exactly where I’m still sore from earlier.

“You wouldn’t,” I challenge, though my voice betrays me.

He groans, head falling back against the seat. “You really wanna test me, baby?”

I don’t. Not unless I want to end up bouncing on his lap in the middle of a quiet suburban street.

I grab his wrist, stopping him before he goes further, and he huffs out a laugh. His forehead drops against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You better get out of this car, Sienna,” he warns. “Or I swear, I’m gonna make it real fucking hard for you to walk inside.”

I shiver, my legs tightening around him before I reluctantly start to pull away. “Fine,” I mumble, shifting back into my seat.

He watches me with that cocky smirk, eyes hooded. “Still good for tomorrow?”

I nod. “Yeah. Wait — tomorrow?”

He tilts his head. “The gynecologist. To get you checked out.”

I blink at him. “A doctor? That’s…”Odd, but I just tilt my head at him. “I’m already on birth control.”