The shame burned through him white hot, shifting guiltily in his seat as the implication of her words weighed on him. She knew what he'd done, had made that abundantly clear at dinner. What right did he have to ask her not to befriend his wife after he'd all but put her boyfriend in the hospital? It was the worst fucking thing James had ever done and he knew that, but even as the mere memory of the other man pawing at Farrah crossed his mind's eye, the rage surged through him just as intensely as it had that night. He would do it again, and he knew that too. He still couldn't look her in the eye, even as she shifted closer across the seat, and when her fingers moved down to trace nonsense patterns against his thigh, his grip on the wheel tightened again. It was pathetic, the way his cock stirred at the mere proximity of her touch, but it was just another piece of evidence proving what they both knew to be true: he was utterly and entirely under her spell, and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it. Her sultry taunts were even more proof of that. "Fuck," he sighed out in a short breath, thighs parting of their own accord as his cock twitched to life eagerly in her teasing grasp. James kept his gaze on the dark stretch of road ahead but it did little to distract from Farrah's antics. Her hot breath on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, and he stifled a groan, nearly biting a hole in his bottom lip. "Farrah, please," he breathed, but what was he even begging for? For her to stop? Keep going? See reason? One hand moved to curl around her wrist as if he might stop her, but he did no such thing. "If she suspects anything, I'll — " A better man may have mentioned that it would break his wife's heart, or destroy his marriage, or even ruin his life. But James, cock stiffening steadily in Farrah's hold, could only manage a low, guilty, " — I'll have to stop seeing you."
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