“We’ll take the train to the Fullerton stop and cab it the rest of the way.”
Maybe fate was a little repentant about her cruelty to them in the past, because they heard the sound of a train approaching in the distance. She saw his small, special smile and wondered if he’d had the same thought.
He grabbed her hand, and they ran for the distant platform. They flew onto the train just before the doors closed.
“Both of us on this side of them this time,” he said.
She glanced around at him, knowing he was referring to last night, when the door had slammed shut between them.
“Both of us on the same side,” she repeated softly.
It was nearly midnight. The car was empty. Asher urged her into two empty seats. He helped her remove her backpack and set it on the floor. Almost immediately, he was kissing her again, his fingers threading under her hood and delving into her upswept hair. She kissed him back eagerly, all the while stroking his angular, newly shaved jaw with her fingertips. It was like neither of them could fully believe the other one was there, and needed to absorb that reality with every sense to convince their brains.
Her other hand worked its way beneath his overcoat and button-down shirt. She moaned into his forceful kiss at the sensation of crinkly chest hair, smooth skin and dense muscle. He abruptly broke their kiss. His eyes glittered down at her as he swept back her hood and then grabbed at the tab of her zipper on her hoodie. He lowered it to just above her navel and then swept the fabric over her shoulders in two swift movements. Beneath the hoodie, she wore a white tank top. She was braless. She stared up at him, enthralled by the heat and focus in his eyes. He opened his hand along her neck and swept it slowly along her shoulder, and then her upper arms.
“You get to me like no one else can. Still,” he said gruffly.
“I missed you.”
It was impulsive of her to say it. Crazy. But this moment was crazy. There was nothing else that would come out of her throat but the truth while she sat there, drinking in every detail of his rugged, handsome face . . . a face she adored. A face she’d anguished over, thought she might never see again.
“Laila,” he growled, as if her name were some strange, exciting combination of a curse and a prayer. Suddenly, his mouth was on her bare skin, everywhere he touched awakening and exciting her nerves. One hand enclosed her breast. She felt his heat through the thin fabric of the tank top. He massaged her firmly, his fingers finessing the nipple, until she grabbed at his shoulders and then his jaw and brought him to her. The rattle of the train roared in her ears as their mouths fused in a kiss so hungry, so electric, it was nearly unbearable. She felt Asher’s hand moving on the fastening of her jeans, and realized he felt the same way.
“I can’t wait,” he muttered tensely next to her seeking lips a moment later.
“I don’t think I can either,” she whispered.
His hand plunged inside her opened button fly. For a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe as sensation pounded into her and Asher’s mouth seized her again. His need was so raw, so focused, it was like being kissed by a blowtorch. She was just as hot. It was flame fusing with flame, or she wouldn’t have been able to take the force of his need. He wouldn’t have been able to stand her desperation. She clutched at
his head, her hips grinding against his hand at her sex. He shifted aside her panties, his finger sliding into the cleft of her labia. She broke their kiss, staring blindly up at an ad for free legal services. He rubbed her clit with the ridge of his finger.
“You’re so wet,” she heard him say roughly before he kissed her ear and applied suction. Bands of shadow and light were flickering past her vision. She realized they were slowing for the Clark and Division station—her usual stop. She started in alarm.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said. He removed his hand from her sex, making her tense in pain at the deprivation. He grasped the edge of his overcoat, leaned into her and pulled the coat over her, draping the front of her body. Hiding it. His hand was back at her sex almost immediately.
“Oh God,” she moaned as the train slowed, because he was stroking her again in a way only Asher could. She’d forgotten how shockingly accurate his fingers could be. If someone got into their car, it would be agony to have him stop.
“It doesn’t matter,” he rasped near her ear. “Even if someone gets on, they won’t see anything.” His soft kiss on her flushed cheeks belied the way his hand moved so firmly beneath the obscuring coat. “You look so beautiful right now,” he hissed near her ear. “I love to watch you come. Still . . . raise your hood. No one else is going to see that.”
She caught the edges of her sweatshirt and drew it up over her shoulders as the train rolled to a stop. The doors sprang open, and she drew the hood up.
“Pull it forward all the way,” Asher said beside her, his finger sliding faster against her clit. She followed his instructions, grimacing in pleasure. Her clit sizzled beneath his touch.
The doors slammed shut. No one had gotten onto their car. She whimpered in relief, turning her face to find Asher’s mouth. But suddenly, his hand was gone.
“Asher—”
“I know. Help me get your jeans down. I’m going to cover you with my coat,” he said tensely, whipping the overcoat off his shoulders. She hastened to comply, too fevered to be surprised by her bizarre willingness to have sex on a train. She came up off the seat and managed to get her panties and jeans down to her ankles. Before she knew it, Asher was sliding beneath her and pulling her into his lap, her back to his front. He whisked his black overcoat over both of them. Beneath the cover, he lifted her tank top over her breasts, fondling one. Liquid heat surged through her at how good it felt, how tense and exciting. She felt his cock surge against her buttock. He’d freed himself from his clothing before he’d pulled her into his lap. He groaned deep in his throat, grasping both her bare breasts in his hands and rocking her against him. In contrast to the furtiveness of their lovemaking, his erection against her skin struck her as baldfaced. Burning.
“Lift up a second,” she heard him say through the sound of the train’s rumble off the side of the subway tunnels. She placed her hands on the metal bar above the seat in front of her and put her feet on the floor. Bending forward, she rose several inches off his lap. She gritted her teeth in anticipation, hovering over him, feeling him rolling on a condom.
He placed his hands on her buttocks, squeezing them tautly in his palms. He slapped one cheek briskly, making her start in surprise. He gripped her hips and pulled her back. His cockhead nudged at her channel. He entered her slowly.
“Oh God help me,” she moaned. He felt huge. Hard. Like he’d split her into a million glorious pieces.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she heard him say behind her through the roar in her ears. He firmed his hold on her ass, balancing her weight on the end of his cock. She held her breath, her knuckles growing white as she clutched onto the metal bar like her life depended on it.
Slowly, he urged her down onto his cock. A low, plaintive sound escaped her throat as he carved into her inch by inch, and her flesh melted around his rigid length. Finally, she was sitting fully in his lap while he clutched her to him, his cock buried deep inside her.