Page 33 of Charmed By the Next-Door Neighbor
"Probably."
"We're going to be stuck in this car all night."
"Yeah."
She turns back to me. "Nash, I—"
Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the first drop of rain hitting the windshield. Then another. Then it's pouring, drumming against the metal roof, turning the world outside into a wall of water.
We're trapped.
Just the two of us in this tiny car in the middle of nowhere with eight hours until morning and everything we just admitted hanging in the air. Claire is still looking at me, and I'm looking at her, and I can see the exact moment she makes a decision.
She unbuckles her seatbelt.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I don't know," she says. "But we're stuck here all night anyway, so—"
She shifts in her seat, moving closer, and my brain short-circuits when I realize what she's doing.
She's climbing over the center console.
Toward me.
Chapter 7 - Claire
This can't be real.
None of this can be real.
I don't do things like this. I'm the girl who plans everything, who overthinks everything, who talks herself out of taking risks because what if it goes wrong?
I don't climb into men's laps in the front seat of my broken-down car in the middle of a rainstorm. Especially not men who look like Nash. Men who are older and experienced and so far out of my league it's laughable.
But he's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters, and my brain has officially stopped working.
He just told me he jerks off thinking about me. Every day since I moved in. And I can see the evidence of what I do to him right there in his jeans. The thick bulge straining against the denim, impossible to miss in the close confines of the car.
Nash Holland wants me.
The knowledge makes me brave in a way I've never been before. I manage to get one knee on his side of the center console, my dress riding up my thighs, and I'm awkward and clumsy and this car is too small for this but I don't care.
"Claire." His voice is strained. "What are you—"
"I don't know," I admit breathlessly. "I just… I need to—"
I get my other knee over and suddenly I'm straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips, my dress bunched up around my thighs, and oh god, I can feel him.
Feel the hard length of him pressed right against me through our clothes. I make a sound that should be embarrassing but I'm beyond embarrassment now.
His hands come up to grip my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and he groans. "Fuck."
I've never heard him curse before.
I want to hear it again.
"Is this okay?" I ask, even though I'm already in his lap and we're pressed together and there's no going back now.
