He squeezed my knee gently. “You’ll see.”

My gaze lowered to where his hand rested. I liked that, how he liked physical contact between us. He was like that before.

Killing someone for calling me trifling was new.

At least, I thought it was as I placed my hand over his, and looked out the window. When we pulled out of the garage, I realized it was near dusk.

Staring at the blurred shapes of people and storefronts while Zayne’s thumb moved in slow circles, I tried not to get too worried about whether or not Roth and Layla were successful. I didn’t even know if I should be worried or grateful if they were.

Thoughts of Lucifer slipped from my mind as I focused on Zayne—on his hand and his fingers. It had moved farther up my leg, and even though his fingers were just moving in slow circles along my inner thigh, every part of my being became hyperaware. I flushed hot as my chest rose with a deep breath, and I looked down. My hand still rested lightly on his. He wasn’t doing anything. Not really. I needed to get my hormones under control—

I bit down on the inside of my lip as his fingers slowly crept upward, reaching the very center of me. My gaze shot to him as my mouth dried, my body sizzled.

He spared a quick glance in my direction, a faint curve to his lips. “More than enough time,” he repeated.

“For what?” My breath caught as his fingers continued to move in those slow, tight circles.

“To show you how happy I was.” He focused on the road. “You want to find out?”

“Oh,” I whispered, my heart beating so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack. “I do.”

I should’ve said no. I had no idea if any of the cars we passed could see inside, but I didn’t as my gaze bounced from the windshield to the passenger window as we crossed the bridge and Zayne...

He drove me mad.

That was how it felt with each circle and the featherlight touches and the harder ones. The leggings and the undies underneath really weren’t much of a barrier, but then his hand was slipping out from underneath mine and working its way under the band of the leggings. He stopped there, waiting for...for permission, and as I stared rather blindly out the window, I curled my hand around his forearm, urging him to continue.

And he did.