Emery’s POV
Landon opens the car door like the gentleman his mother raised him to be, but something in me has shifted. The evening, the wine, the way he looked at me under that fading sun—all of it has unlocked something I've been holding back for weeks.
Instead of climbing in, I pull him toward me.
My mouth finds his with all the joy and relief the evening unlocked, and he responds instantly, groaning against my lips as his hands slide to my waist. The coastal air wraps around us, electric and alive, carrying the salt of the ocean and something more primal beneath it.
"Emery," he breathes when we break apart. "We should—"
"I don't want to wait." I pull him closer, my fingers fisting in his shirt. "I don't want to go back to that house and pretend we're okay. I want to be okay. Right now. Right here."
His eyes darken. He glances around—the parking lot is empty, the road deserted, nothing but darkness and stars and the distant crash of waves.
"Someone could see," he says, but something reckless flickers in his expression. Something that matches the fire building in my blood.
"Let them."
He kisses me again, harder this time, and I feel his restraint crumbling. His hands grip my hips as he guides me toward the backseat, opening the door without breaking contact. I fall backward onto the leather, and he climbs over me, our mouths never separating.
I laugh breathlessly as we fumble in the confined space. His elbow hits the window. My knee connects with the console. We're all tangled limbs and urgent hands, and it's imperfect and clumsy and absolutely right.
"This dress," he mutters against my throat, his fingers working the fabric up my thighs. "I've been thinking about getting you out of this dress all night."
"Then stop thinking and do it."
He pulls the hem above my hips, and his hand slides between my legs. When his fingers find me through the thin fabric of my underwear, already wet, already aching, he groans like I've wounded him.
"God, Emery." His voice is rough, reverent. "You're so ready for me."
"I've been ready since dinner." I arch into his touch, desperate for more. "I've been ready since you looked at me like I was the only person in the world."
He pushes my underwear aside, and his fingers slide through my slick folds, circling the bundle of nerves that makes my vision blur. I gasp, my hips lifting off the seat.
"You are the only person in my world," he says, his thumb pressing exactly where I need it while two fingers sink inside me. "You and Elsie. Nothing else matters."
I'm burning. Every nerve ending alive and screaming for him. His fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes me writhe, and I feel the pressure building impossibly fast.
"Landon—I need you inside me. Please."
He withdraws his fingers and works his belt open with one hand, still kissing me, still touching me like he can't bear to stop. I hear the rasp of his zipper, feel him free himself, thick and hard against my thigh.
"You're perfect," he breathes, positioning himself at my entrance. "Everything about you is perfect. I've wanted you like this all night. I can't wait another second."
He enters me slowly, inch by devastating inch, and I cry out at the stretch. The car fills with the sound of our ragged breathing, the leather creaking beneath us as he seats himself fully inside me.
"Okay?" he asks, his forehead pressed to mine.
"More than okay." I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. "Don't hold back."
He doesn't.
He moves with deliberate intensity, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The car rocks gently with our rhythm, and I watch the windows fog with our breath, hiding us from the world outside.
"You feel incredible," he groans, his hips snapping against mine. "So tight. So wet. So Mine."
"Yours," I agree, my nails raking down his back. "I'm yours."
He drives into me harder, the new angle hitting something that makes me see stars. My moans echo in the small space, shameless and desperate, and he swallows them with his mouth.
"I'm never letting you go," he promises between kisses, between thrusts, between the waves of pleasure crashing through us both. "No matter what they throw at us. You belong to me."
"Yes." The word comes out broken as the pressure builds toward something inevitable. "Don't stop. God, Landon, don't stop—"
He shifts his weight, his hand sliding between our bodies to find my clit again. The combination of his fingers and his cock, the fullness and the friction, pushes me to the edge and over.
I come apart with his name on my lips, my inner walls clenching around him as the orgasm tears through me. He follows moments later, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside me with a shudder that racks his entire body.
We collapse together in the aftermath, a tangle of sweaty limbs and uneven breath, fogged windows hiding us from everything outside this moment.
I laugh first—soft, surprised, almost giddy. He joins me, his face buried in my neck, his body still connected to mine.
"We just had sex in a parking lot," I say, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertip.
"We did." He lifts his head, grinning at me with that boyish lightness I saw earlier tonight. "Any regrets?"
"None." I pull him down for another kiss, softer this time. "I love you."
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. "I love you too. More than anything."
Eventually, we separate and rearrange ourselves, laughter punctuating our attempts to look presentable. My dress is hopelessly wrinkled. His hair stands in wild directions. Neither of us care.
The drive home feels like floating. Landon again keeps one hand on my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my skin. I settle my head on the car seat, cheeks still flushed, still burning. Thoughts filling each room in my head.
Whatever waits for us at the estate—the whispers, the schemes, the constant surveillance—none of it can touch this moment. None of it can take away what we've reclaimed tonight.
For the first time since I walked back through those gates, I feel like myself again.