Chapter 16: Backseat Temptations
The pink neon buzz was the first thing Lexi noticed. It outlined the jagged silhouette of the concession stand, bleeding into the twilight. The second thing was the scent—popcorn, yes, but under it, the tang of old asphalt, spilled soda, and gasoline. It felt like stepping into a faded postcard, one where the colors had bled together from being left in the sun.
Ace’s Mustang rumbled to a stop in a space far from the other scattered cars. The giant screen loomed ahead, a silent monolith showing scrolling ads for local tire shops and diners. He cut the engine, and the sudden quiet was profound, broken only by the distant hum of other vehicles and the chirp of crickets in the weedy field beyond the fence.
“Classic,” Ace said, his voice a low vibration in the dark cab. He didn’t look at the screen. He was looking at her.
Lexi fidgeted with the hem of her sweater dress. It was softer than her usual clothes, a deep forest green he’d once said made her eyes look like gemstones. “I’ve never been to a drive-in.”
“Figured.” He reached behind his seat, pulling a worn wool blanket from the back. “Better than a multiplex. More private.”
He got out, came around to her side, and opened the door. The courtesy light illuminated the sharp planes of his face for a second before he clicked it off, leaving them in the dusky glow. He spread the blanket over the hood, the warmth from the engine bleeding through immediately. Then he hoisted himself up, sitting with his back against the windshield, and held a hand down to her.
“Come on.”
She took it, letting him pull her up to sit beside him. The metal of the hood was warm, the blanket scratchy. He settled her between his legs, her back against his chest. His arms came around her, strong and secure. The previews started, the sound tinny as it crackled from the small speaker Ace had hooked on his window.
“What are we seeing?” she whispered, leaning into him.
“Some old Western. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. It’s about three guys trying to find Confederate gold.”
“Sounds violent.”
“It is.” He nuzzled her hair, his breath warm against her ear. “But right now, I don’t really care about the gold.”
His large hands, which had been resting comfortably on her stomach, began to move. One stayed, a solid, warm weight, while the other slid slowly down her thigh, over the soft knit of her dress. The touch was possessive, deliberate. Lexi’s breath hitched. On screen, a dusty landscape erupted in gunfire, the flashes of light casting their tangled shadows against the dashboard.
“Been thinking about this all week,” he growled, his voice barely audible over the movie’s soundtrack. His hand slid back up, higher this time, finding the bare skin of her thigh above her knee-high boots. His fingers traced slow, burning circles. “Thinking about you. In my kitchen.In my bed. Everywhere.”
Lexi’s heart hammered against her ribs. She turned her head, seeking his face in the flickering dark. His eyes were two points of intense blue, fixed on her, not the movie. He met her gaze, held it, and then his hand slid further up, under the hem of her dress.
She gasped, a small, sharp sound lost in a swell of orchestral music from the speaker. His fingers brushed the lace edge of her underwear. “Ace…”
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips grazing her jaw. “And I will. I swear to God, I will.” But his touch was asking a different question.
She didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she shifted, turning her body slightly towards him. It was permission. It was a plea.
He kissed her then, and it wasn’t like the others. It was a searing, hungry claim, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. His tongue swept in, and she met it with her own, a surge of boldness flooding her veins. One of his hands tangled in her hair, holding her gently but firmly in place, while the other continued its devastating exploration under her dress.
She was melting, dissolving into the heat of him and the cool night air and the distant, irrelevant chaos on the screen. Her own hands moved of their own volition. One clutched at the leather of his jacket. The other, trembling slightly, drifted down from his chest, over the hard ridge of his stomach, until her palm pressed tentatively against the strained denim of his jeans.He was so hard. So big. The sheer size of him, even through the layers of fabric, made her head swim. She cupped him, her touch shy but certain.
Ace broke the kiss with a sharp, gritted groan. His forehead dropped to her shoulder. “Fuck, Lexi.” His hips arched involuntarily into her hand. “My little mouse… you’re gonna ruin me.”
He captured her mouth again, the kiss turning deeper, wetter, more frantic. His fingers hooked into the side of her lace panties. The world narrowed to the point of his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing, the smell of leather and his crisp, clean scent. She was floating, weightless with want.
A sudden, jarring bang echoed from the movie—a cannon blast. It was followed by a burst of raucous laughter from a car several rows over. The spell fractured.
Ace stilled. His hand stopped its motion, though it remained where it was, a brand against her skin. He lifted his head, listening. The laughter died down, replaced by the movie’s dialogue.
Lexi felt the moment shift. The intense, consuming fire banked, leaving a glowing, vulnerable warmth. Her hand, still resting on him, gentled.
He took a long, shuddering breath, then slowly, carefully, removed his hand from under her dress. He brought it to her face, cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking her swollen bottom lip. His eyes searched hers in the erratic light.
“You’re distracted,” he said quietly. It wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation.
“I’m not,” she whispered, but it was weak.
“Yeah, you are.” He leaned back against the windshield, pulling her with him so her head rested on his shoulder. He kept his arms around her, but now they were just holding. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”
She was silent for a minute, watching the black-and-white figures on the screen ride across a desert. Her father’s face, stunned and radiant, flashed in her mind. The way he’d said It’s a nursery like it was the answer to every question he’d ever asked.
“It’s my dad,” she finally said, the words slipping out into the safe dark between them and the stars. “And Dede.”
Ace’s hand stroked her arm. “What about them?”
“She’s… she’s pregnant.” Saying it aloud to someone outside that kitchen made it real in a new way. It vibrated in the air.
Ace didn’t gasp or exclaim. He just absorbed it. His fingers stilled for a second, then resumed their gentle motion. “Wow. How’s he taking it?”
“He’s… happy. Really, really happy.” She frowned, trying to articulate the storm inside her. “I am too. I think. It’s just… everything is changing so fast. A month ago, it was just me and him in that house, waiting for the divorce papers to come. Now, she’s everywhere. And there’s going to be a baby. And he looks at her like…”
“Like she hung the moon,” Ace finished, his voice soft.
Lexi nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“And where does that leave you?” he asked. It was the question she’d been afraid to form.
“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “She asked me. Before she told him.What I thought. She said it mattered.”
Ace was quiet for a long moment. On screen, the three men faced off in a cemetery, a three-way standoff. “She’s smart,” he said finally. “She knows you’re the center of his universe. That doesn’t change ‘cause the universe gets bigger.”
Tears pricked Lexi’s eyes, hot and sudden. She blinked them away, grateful for the darkness. “It feels like it should.”
“Nah.” He kissed the top of her head. “My old man… when he had a new girlfriend, it was like me and my siblings ceased to exist. We were furniture. Your dad isn’t like that. The way he looks at you? That’s permanent.”
He said it with such certainty, as if he were stating a law of physics.She believed him. “What about you?” she asked, turning the focus away from her swirling emotions. “Your sister and brother. At your aunt’s. Is it… better?”
She felt him tense, just slightly, then consciously relax. “Yeah. It’s better.Safer. Quieter. My aunt’s place is small, but it’s clean. There’s food. She makes them do their homework.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “They hate that part. But they’re safe. I can sleep now.”
I can sleep now. The simple confession cracked something open in her chest. She thought of him alone in that inherited house, the silence finally peaceful instead of anxious.
“Do you miss them?” she whispered.
“Every damn day,” he said, the words rough. “But missing them in my quiet house is a hell of a lot better than worrying about them in a warzone. I see them every weekend. Take ‘em for burgers. It’s… it’s enough.”
He said it like he was convincing himself. Lexi twisted in his arms, lifting herself up to look at him. In the reflected light of a dramatic shootout, his face was all sharp angles and shadowed depth. She saw the fatigue, the residual worry, and the fierce love he tried to hide. She leaned down and kissed him, softly this time. A kiss of understanding, of shared weight.
When she pulled back, his eyes were closed. “You can’t fix it, Lexi,” he said, his voice low.
“I know,” she said. She wasn’t trying to. She was just trying to see him.All of him.
He opened his eyes. “You should get back in the car.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next. And this,” he gestured vaguely at the public space around them, the families in their sedans, “ain’t the place.”
A flush spread through her. She slid off the hood, her legs a little unsteady. He followed, folding the blanket with quick, efficient motions. Instead of getting back in the driver’s side, he opened her door for her. Once she was inside, he leaned in, bracing a hand on the roof of the car.
“For the record,” he said, his face inches from hers. “I’m glad for your dad.And for you. A new baby… that’s a fresh start. A good one.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “And you’re gonna be an amazing big sister.”
He closed her door before she could respond. He walked around the front of the car, the headlights of the movie scene sweeping over him, illuminating his determined stride for a second before he was swallowed again by the dark. He got in, started the engine, and pulled out of the drive-in long before the movie’s final showdown.
He drove them to the cliffs, the place that was becoming theirs. He didn’t park in their usual spot, but on a secluded overlook further down the road, shielded by a copse of pine trees. He killed the engine and the lights. The only sound was the wind whispering through the needles and the distant, relentless crash of the waves below.
This time, there was no slow seduction. He turned to her, his eyes blazing in the dark. “Get in the back.”
Her pulse skyrocketed. She didn’t hesitate. She climbed over the console, into the cramped back seat of the Mustang. He was right behind her, his body crowding into the space, his heat immediately enveloping her. The leather creaked under their weight.
“You got me thinking,” he said, his voice a raw scrape as he loomed over her, caging her with his arms. “About fresh starts.” He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “About what’s mine.”
He kissed her again, deep and consuming, his hands mapping her body through her clothes with a new, desperate intensity. The frustration from the drive-in, the tenderness of their conversation, the sheer, overwhelming fact of their futures shifting around them—it all funneled into this. His touch was branding, claiming. Her hands pulled at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, to feel the solid reality of him.
When his hand pushed her dress up again, there was no hesitation. When his fingers finally slipped beneath the lace and found her wet and ready for him, his groan was one of pure relief.
“Mine,” he breathed against her lips, his finger circling, stroking, pushing her relentlessly towards a cliff edge of her own. “You hear me, Lexi? You’re mine.”
And as the world dissolved into sensation, as she shattered against his hand with a choked cry he swallowed with his kiss, she knew it was true. In the chaos of changing families and uncertain tomorrows, this—the weight of him, the promise in his touch, the dangerous, beautiful safety of his claiming—was the one thing she didn’t have to question.
In the chaos of changing families and uncertain tomorrows, this—the weight of him, the promise in his touch, the dangerous, beautiful safety of his claiming—was the one thing she didn’t have to question. His touch, his breath, his low growl in the dark car anchored her completely. The world outside the fogged windows ceased to exist.
“Look at me,” Ace murmured, his voice rough.
Lexi opened her eyes. His face was inches away, etched with a tension that was more than lust. It was a raw, needing thing. He held her gaze as his hand, which had just coaxed a shuddering release from her, moved. It slid from the wet heat between her legs, up over the trembling flat of her stomach, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire. HIS HAND MOVES HIGHER. It traveled slowly, purposefully, over the soft knit of her dress, over her ribs, until his palm covered her breast. He held it there, his touch firm through the fabric, his thumb brushing her nipple into a stiff, aching point.
She gasped, arching into his hand.
“This is mine too,” he stated, no question in his tone. “All of you. Every fucking part.” He dipped his head and caught her nipple in his mouth through the dress, sucking hard, the damp heat and pressure making her cry out. The sound was swallowed by the leather interior and the wind outside.
His other hand went to the zpper at the back of her dress. He pulled it down in one harsh, decisive sound. “Arms up,” he commanded, his breath hot against her skin.
She obeyed, lifting her arms as he peeled the dress down her body, leaving her in only her lace panties and boots. The cold air of the car kissed her skin, raising goosebumps instantly chased away by the heat of his stare. He leaned back, his eyes devouring her in the faint moonlight filtering through the pines.
“Fuck, Lexi.” The words were punched out of him. “You’re so perfect.”
He shrugged out of his jacket, then wrenched his t-shirt over his head. His chest was pure muscle, scarred here and there from a life she was only beginning to understand. She reached for him, her small hands smoothing over the hard planes, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under her palm. He let her explore for a moment, his eyes dark, before he captured her wrists and pinned them gently above her head on the seat back.
“My turn,” he said, and his mouth descended on hers again.
This kiss was a conquest. It was all teeth and tongue and possession. He released her wrists only to let his hands roam her bare skin, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, squeezing the full flesh of her ass. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and dragged them down her legs, tossing them into the dark footwell. She was completely exposed now, naked except for her knee-high boots, splayed beneath him on the back seat.
He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. He sat back on his heels, his gaze dragging from her face, down her throat, over her breasts, to the apex of her thighs. He unbuttoned his jeans, the sound loud in the charged silence. He freed himself, and her eyes widened. Even in the dim light, the thick, heavy length of him was intimidating. It stood rigid against his stomach, a stark testament to his want.
“Touch me,” he said, his voice gravel.
Hesitantly, she reached out, wrapping her fingers around him. He was hot, silken steel, a vein throbbing under her touch. She stroked him, once, twice, a clumsy, learning motion. A shudder ripped through him. “Just like that,” he encouraged, but the strain in his jaw was immense.
He let her explore for another moment before gently removing her hand. “Not like this. I need to be inside you. Now.” He positioned himself over her, his body lowering, nudging at her entrance. He was right there, a blunt, insistent pressure against her slick heat. He paused, searching her face. “Look at me. You tell me if you want to stop.”
She saw the restraint holding him back, a thin, fraying thread. She saw the boy who worried about his siblings, and the man who was trying so hard to be careful with her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
He drove into her.
There was a sharp, stunning burn, a tearing sensation that made her gasp into his mouth. He stilled, buried deep inside her, his body taut as a wire. “Jesus,” he breathed, his forehead dropping to hers. “Just breathe, baby. Just breathe through it.”
She did, her lungs fighting for air, her body stretching to accommodate the sheer, impossible fullness of him. The sharpness ebbed, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that was already beginning to twist into something else. He moved then, a slow, measured withdrawal and then a deeper, more certain thrust. It punched a moan from her throat.
“That’s it,” he growled, his rhythm establishing itself, powerful and relentless. “Take me. All of me.” Each thrust was a claiming, a punctuation mark in the dark. The car rocked slightly with their motion. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her to meet him, angling her so he sank even deeper. A cried-out “oh god” escaped her lips with every drive of his hips.
He fucked her with a single-minded intensity that stole her breath. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, and real, and messy. Sweat gleamed on his skin. The air filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, of their mingled, ragged breaths, of the soft, wet sounds of their joining. He shifted, reaching between them, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing harsh, perfect circles. “Come for me, Lexi. Come on my cock.”
The coil inside her snapped. Pleasure, white-hot and brutal, exploded through her veins, wringing a shattered scream from her lungs. Her body clamped around him, convulsing, milking him. The sensation tore a raw, guttural shout from his throat. He thrust twice more, deep, shuddering pumps, and she felt him pulse inside her, his release hot and endless as he emptied himself with a final, broken groan.
He collapsed atop her, his weight a crushing, welcome anchor. His breath was hot and harsh against her neck. They lay there, tangled, slick, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat and leather. The distant ocean seemed to roar in time with her receding heartbeat.
After a long while, he softened inside her and slipped out. He shifted, gathering her against his side, pulling his discarded shirt to wipe gently between her legs before tossing it away. He draped his leather jacket over them both. She nestled into the hollow of his shoulder, her body humming, utterly spent.
He kissed her hair, his lips lingering. “Okay?” His voice was wrecked.
She nodded against his skin. “Yeah.” A pause. “It hurt. At first.”
“I know.” He tightened his arm around her. “I’m sorry. Not sorry I did it. Sorry it hurt.”
It was such an Ace thing to say. She almost smiled. She traced a meaningless pattern on his chest. “What happens Monday?”
“What do you mean?”
“At school. After this.” She gestured weakly at their naked, entwined bodies.
He was silent for a beat. “Whatever you want. You pretend I don’t exist, I’ll pretend. You want me to hold your hand walking into first period, I’ll do that too.” He tilted her chin up. “But everyone will know you’re mine. They’ll look at you and see me. That’s non-negotiable.”
The possessiveness should have scared her. Instead, it felt like a shield. She thought of Dede moving boxes into her father’s house, of a new room being painted, of a future that was reshaping itself without her permission. Here, in this car, with this boy, the rules were clear. She belonged.