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It sends another shiver down my spine.

I know he can see right through me and he’s enjoying every single minute of it. He’s torturing me, and he likes it.

The car door slams shut as he climbs in beside me. The engine purrs to life. Draco’s hands grip the steering wheel, and I can’t stop staring at them. I watch him as he pulls out of the parking spot, and we make our way out onto the main road.

“You’re squirming, Mercy,” he says, looking over at me with one eyebrow cocked. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

I press my knees together, hard.

“No,” I lie.

His lips curl into a smirk. We slide to a stop and when he looks over at me, those deep, fathomless eyes are reflecting the red of the stoplight.

“You can’t lie to me, Mercy. I can smell it on you.”

I squirm again. The leather seat beneath me creaks, giving me away.

Damn it!

Why does he look so good, and why is it effecting me like this?

“You want me, Mercy,” he continues, his voice as smooth as the silk tie around his neck. “If I pulled over right here and fucked you in the back seat, you wouldn’t stop me. You’re tired of playing the good girl, aren’t you?”

I shake my head, more to convince myself than him. But he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that, baby girl. Let’s walk into that church and act like you’re a prim and proper little princess and you didn’t beg for my cock on the kitchen floor. I can play pretend for a little while. Then I’m gonna take you home and make you scream. Just make sure you’re thinking about that while you look up at your lord and savior, nailed to that cross. You getting fucked hard, by a sinner like me—those are the sins he died for.”

I just stare at him, and my mouth is suddenly so dry.

The car rolls to a stop in the back of the church parking lot. The engine goes silent as he throws it into park and flips the key off.

Draco turns and looks at me.

“You’re shaking, Mercy,” he says.

His hand reaches out, tracing the line of my jaw. I flinch at his touch, but not out of fear. It’s something else. My body is shaking so hard that I don’t know what to do.

“I… I’m just cold,” I stammer, looking away from him. The church looms in the background, and I feel like the building itself is judging me.

“Is it really the cold, Mercy?” he presses, his hand moving lower, tracing the column of my throat. I swallow hard, and I feel my throat bob against his thumb when I do. “Or is it what’s dripping down your thighs right now that’s got you all worked up? Your pretty little pussy is throbbing, isn’t it? You want me so bad, and you can’t wait.”

His hand drops lower, brushing against the collar of my dress. I can feel my heart pounding, my blood rushing in my ears.

“Well… we can’t have you acting like this in church. I’ll just have to take care of you, right here.”

And then, his hand plunges lower, and his fingers flip up my skirt. I gasp, my eyes wide as I stare at him, and at the world outside. There are people moving everywhere, like ants after a summer picnic.

Can they see me?

Can they see what he’s doing to me?

His hand slides between my legs, pushing aside the red thong, his fingers brushing against the part of me that’s throbbing painfully. I jolt at the contact, folding in on myself.

“Draco! We can’t do this in public!”

But I don’t push him away. I don’t want to. I want to pull him closer. I want to climb onto his lap and take what I want—what he promised me.

His fingers push inside me, deep, and curl expertly, and he brushes against a spot inside me that makes me feel like I’m being burned alive. I gasp and twist, rolling my hips against him.