As I turned the car onto the road that would take us to Tunbridge Wells, warm fingers slid over my thigh to cup the flesh between my legs. My cock jumped and hardened, and I groaned.
I stamped down on the clutch, and the engine whined in protest. “Je…Eira,” I groaned again. “Stop. I’ll crash the car.”
She gave my cock a last squeeze. “I think this fine gentleman would rather you crashed the car than that I stop,” she teased, and I growled in agreement.
“Don’t tempt me, please. We’re almost there.”
Eira leaned close to me, cupped my cheek, and drew it toward her to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You’re so sweet.”
“I’m not sweet, Eira. I’m…I’m the worst sort of man for you to know. I need to talk to you.” There was a space in front of Maud’s, and I parked. A quick glance around showed no one nearby, and I faced her.