54. CORA
CORA
If you look at my planner, yes, I’m behind on the research project. But if you look at the actual deadline and what’s required, I’m probably ahead.
That’s what I tell myself as I glance over at Lane in the passenger seat.
The sun is starting to dip, the sky streaked in soft orange and gray, and somewhere between one turn and the next, it hits me—I don’t have anywhere to be. No plan. No place I’m supposed to go.
My stomach drops at the thought.
Lane reaches over, his hand settling on my thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer, even though I’m not sure what that feeling was. Panic, maybe. Or something else.
I don’t drive toward his apartment. Instead, I keep driving, out past the last stretch of houses toward the water.
By the time I pull up near the beach, the sun is almost gone. The cold has stripped everything back—no people, just steady lake waves.
Lane glances out the window, then back at me. “What are we doing?”
I don’t answer right away. I just shift the car into park, kill the engine, and let the quiet settle around us.
Then I move.
I unbuckle and crawl over the console before I can overthink it, settling in his lap, my knees pressing into the seat on either side of him. His hands come up automatically, steadying me at my hips.
He looks around, surveying the empty beach, before asking, “What’s up, Peaches?”
I push my fingers through his hair, which is a little longer than it should be, the ends brushing his forehead like they’re always one second from falling into his eyes. He lets out a quiet breath, his hands tightening just slightly.
For a second, I just look at him. Clear and steady, it hits me.
I love him.
The words sit right there, pressing at the back of my teeth, but I can’t get them out. Not today. Instead, I lean in and press a soft kiss to his mouth.
It’s slow and gentle—the kind of kiss where I can feel him smile.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against his. I can’t get enough of the way he looks at me. My heart thuds deep in my chest and I’m practically floating. When Lane looks at me like this, like I’m something he’s needed, it pulls me further in. Into him.
Fuck. I can’t get enough.
I fall closer, resting my head on his shoulder. Lane's lips find my neck. His mouth pulls a moan from me and I arch my back, pushing my hips into him.
There’s a moment of friction that has me wanting more. I roll my hips, searching for the spot as his fingers dig into my hips.
Lifting my head, I kiss him again, this time urgent and needy. He matches my energy, his tongue at the seam of my lips, and I let him in. I taste him and rock my hips again.
“Is this what you want?” Lane asks, moving one of the hands gripping my hips until he’s touching me through my pants.
I whimper in response and tip my head back again, moving until I’m rubbing against his fingers. He kisses the column of my throat, lightly biting.
I know I’m soaking through my panties and the thought of doing this in the car, at the beach, releases sparks on my skin.
Sometimes, it feels good to break the rules. Can definitely confirm it feels fucking incredible to break the rules with Lane Maxwell.
I look to both sides, checking that it’s still only us out here.
His free hand scratches at my back before landing on my hip. “You better get to work, Peaches. Can’t get caught.”
I roll my hips faster, harder, chasing the pressure. I’m holding my breath as the ache I’m trying to soothe feels closer and closer.
My hands squeeze at Lane’s shoulders as his fingers continue to hit the spot I need. I rock my hips into him quicker, and lean my chest back enough to see him.
Lane drags his fingers over me through the fabric, and I know I'm squeezing his shoulders.
Lane groans, “Fuck, Cora. You going to come in this car for me?”
His voice all gruff and rocky, saying my name like that, is the thing to push me over.
I’m seeing stars, feeling the sparks, and crying out in the car.
Lane doesn’t stop and his name is desperate off my lips as my climax hits hard.
I can’t move my hips another inch but Lane works me while I tremble and shake… all because of his fingers.
“Good girl,” he croons.
Lane doesn’t quit until I fall forward, my limbs heavy and breathing ragged.
He gives me a moment before wrapping both arms around me, pulling my chest closer to him.
Then he looks at me, puts a quick kiss to my mouth and says, “Coralee Banks. You’re my kind of good girl.”
Yeah…
I definitely am in love with him.