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I manage a nod.

“Words,” he reminds me sharply.

“Yes, god, everything reminds me of that! I don't want to stop this time. Please, don't deny me again, Jordan. Please.”

He stares at me with his eyebrows in a knot. Guilt, I think. Calling him out made him feel badly. “Never again, Lorikeet," he says sincerely. "Backing down isn't an option anymore … I promise.”

My heart distends my chest painfully. Delightfully. He sounds like he's swearing himself to me the way a knight would to their queen. We're talking about sex, but it feels like something bigger. I'm afraid to ask what he means,really means,because he could hold back his answer.

Secrets have dictated our relationship from the start.

Relationship?The word makes ripples in my pulse.Whatever this is, it's more than the fake one I have with Dezmond. No, it's more than anything I've had with anyone.The concept of Jordan as someone I'm dating, as a boyfriend, gives me such a blast of excited nervousness that I tremble. I shouldn't be so scared of the idea. Or tempted by it. Not when I've handled heavier things in my life. Blood and dirt and grief should be the epitome of fear.

And here I am … afraid to tell Jordan how I feel.

“Lorikeet,” he says, breaking the quiet.

“Yes?”

“I'm going to crack the windows.” He lets go of my throat, turns the car key slightly, waking the electric. Reaching over me he pushes the button to lower the two front windows three inches. He catches my eye, grins. “It's going to get hotter in here.”

“I know,” I say, still shaking, trying to smile.

“You look overwhelmed.”

“I am. A little.” Wetting my lips, I reach for his chest, place my hand there. He tenses from the contact. “Don't stop, though.”

“Didn't even cross my mind.” Lifting my hand, he kisses the tip of each finger. It's sweet, but I glimpse the lustful sin that continues to simmer in his green eyes. “Take your dress off for me.”

I don't hesitate, I yank it over my head.

He groans excitedly. “You're so eager to do everything I ask. You weren't at first. Once I figured out how to tame your hungry pussy, you became focused on pleasing me.”

The skin across my chest flushes crimson, I see how red it is in the rear-view mirror. I'm not ashamed. My blush grows from satisfaction. His affirmations are a source of pleasure I never knew I needed.

Jordan circles his hands around my waist. Lifting me like I'm light as a bag of flour he switches spots, putting me in the passenger seat, maneuvering to the middle console. “What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Something you'll thank me for.” He spins me around, adjusting the angle of the seat, pushing it backwards on its track to create space on the floor. A squeak escapes me when he flips me upside down.

“Jordan!”

“Shh, you'll see.” Taking my ankles, he hooks my knees over the top of the seat. My hips are where my head would be if I was sitting like a normal person. He stretches the seatbelt across my stomach, the fabric grazing the underside of my breasts before he clicks it in, trapping me.

I'm upside down. If it weren't for my long legs dangling over the headrest it would be uncomfortable. As it is, it's only disorienting. My shoulders are taking all the weight thanks to how he's reclined the seat.

The first thing he does is grab my bra, navigating the hooks without looking. He removes it smoothly, tossing it in the driver's seat where my dress is. I'm wearing nothing but black heels and magenta panties now.

Jordan smiles down at me, breathing in long drags like he's exerting himself. “How are you so beautiful?” he asks. His fingers coil in his sweater, pulling it free. It must have been warm to wear,even before we started fooling around in my car.

His bare torso flexes as he bends towards me. I hold my breath, but it's hard because my brain is arguing with the blood rushing in. I'm lightheaded from arousal, from being inverted. Will I float away when he makes me come?

He drags his tongue over my panties, coating the already wet cotton in saliva. Strands of my juice mix with his drool; he laps me up like I'm the tastiest ice cream cone he's had the luck of coming across.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“Yes,” I groan.

“I know. I can tell by how wet this needy pussy is.” His finger strokes through the crease of my panties, digging the fabric deeper into my slit. “Your cute little clit is all swollen. It's sticking through the cloth. Tell me you want me to make you come, sweetheart.”