The door creaked open, Harley's brother standing there with his arms crossed. His eyes darted between the three of them crammed inside the room.
"…Okay, what is this?" he asked flatly.
Harley forced a lazy grin, even as her pulse thundered. "Jake was showing me some dumb TikToks. Ethan looked like he was about to die of boredom."
"Really?" her brother said, squinting.
"Really," Harley said, sharp, daring him to push.
Jake opened his mouth, smirk locked and loaded, but Ethan's voice cut through before he could fire. "Relax, man. We're good."
Her brother exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Fine. Just—don't make it weird."
Jake rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Nothing weird at all."
But the moment was gone, the danger swept under the rug.
---
The next morning, the driveway was chaos. Backpacks, duffels, people arguing over who got shotgun.
"Road trip!" her brother announced, like a TikTok dad trying too hard.
"Who even says it like that?" one of his friends snorted.
"People who have the aux cord," her brother shot back, shoving bags into the trunk.
Ethan leaned against the hood, smirk tugging at his mouth. "This is gonna be a disaster."
"It's giving… clown car," Harley muttered, watching as everyone piled in.
When the last seat got claimed, Harley stood there with her bag. No room.
"Well, someone's walking," Jake said from the back, smug.
"Or…" Ethan spread his knees in the passenger seat, tapping his thigh. "She can sit here."
The words were smooth, casual — but his eyes told another story.
Harley's cheeks flamed. "That's not happening."
"Looks like it is happening," her brother said, completely clueless, tossing her bag in the trunk. "Problem solved."
Jake groaned. "This is so rigged."
"You're just mad no one wants to sit on your lap," one of the guys in the back cracked, setting off laughter.
Jake muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I hate all of you."
---
Sliding into the seat was torture. Harley perched on Ethan's lap, rigid, her face neutral, like nothing was wrong.
But everything was wrong. His chest pressed against her back, his hand firm at her hip, steadying her every bump. His breath brushed her ear, low and warm.
"Comfy?" he murmured.
She bit down on her lip. "Shut up."
"Didn't say no," he whispered, the smirk practically audible.
From the backseat, Jake groaned loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is actually hell. I'm in hell."
"Bro, relax," her brother said, laughing, tapping the wheel. "It's a six-hour drive, not the Hunger Games."
"Feels like it," Jake shot back.
Someone cranked the music, the bass rattling through the car. Voices overlapped, arguments broke out about playlists, snacks, and bathroom stops.
Through it all, Harley sat perfectly still, every bump in the road making her shift against Ethan, every shift pulling a quiet chuckle from him.
From the backseat, Jake groaned again. "This trip is going to kill me."
"Manifest it," someone muttered.
And just like that, the road adventure began — laughter, tension, and nowhere to hide.
Her short dress kept riding up each time the car hit a bump, the hem brushing dangerously high. Ethan's hand rested low on her hip, steady like an anchor, but she could feel the tension in him. His jaw tight, his chest rising sharp against her back.
She shifted again, pretending to adjust, but her thigh grazed his.
His breath hitched against her ear.
"Careful," he muttered, voice low enough only she could hear.
She smirked, not looking at him. "Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?"
His hand pressed harder at her waist. "Not uncomfortable. Just… impatient."
That one word sent a shiver racing through her.
---
From the backseat, Jake groaned. "Who even picked this playlist? It's trash."
"Your opinion's invalid," one of the others fired back. "You lost aux privileges last trip."
"Justice for me!" Jake muttered.
The car erupted in laughter, everyone distracted — except Ethan, whose focus had narrowed entirely to her.
---
Harley leaned forward suddenly to grab a bottle of water from the console, her dress climbing higher with the motion. She felt the sharp intake of Ethan's breath behind her. His fingers tightened on her thigh, just above her knee, warning and wanting all at once.
"Harley," he growled softly, the sound almost drowned by the bass-heavy song blasting through the speakers.
She tilted her head, lips barely moving. "Hmm?"
"You know what you're doing."
She shifted back against him deliberately, her rear pressing into his lap. His hand flew higher, gripping just under the edge of her dress.
"You're gonna make me lose it," he hissed, the edge in his voice sending heat spiraling through her.
---
From the rearview mirror, her brother's eyes flicked up, but the tinted angle and the chaos in the back kept them safe. Harley's breath came faster, her pulse pounding. The thrill of being unseen, right there in the middle of everyone, made it unbearable.
Ethan bent closer, lips grazing the curve of her neck, a whisper lost in the noise. "If you keep this up, I won't wait until we stop."
Her legs trembled, her heart racing, but she forced her voice steady. "Maybe I don't want you to wait."
His low chuckle vibrated against her skin, his fingers grazing higher, heat searing her thighs.
The highway turned into a jagged stretch of backroad, the SUV rattling with every bump. Harley tried to brace herself, but each jolt made her shift against Ethan's lap. And each shift made his body react in ways she could no longer ignore.
His HARD LENGTH pressed against her, hot and insistent, pulsing every time the tires hit a pothole.
She swallowed, her hands curling tight in her dress. God, he's hard.
Ethan's breath grew heavier against her ear, his jaw flexing as though he was fighting every instinct not to move. "You feel that?" he whispered.
She dared to wiggle, just a fraction. His grip snapped tighter on her waist.
"Harley…" he warned, low and dangerous.
Her pulse spiked. She could feel every thrust of the road translating through him, like the car itself was conspiring to grind them together.
From the backseat, someone yelled over the music:
"Why does this road feel like a trampoline?"
"Bro, don't complain. This is free chiropractic care," another cracked, sending the car into laughter.
But Harley barely heard them. All she could hear was Ethan's ragged breathing, all she could feel was the way his restraint frayed thinner with every bounce of the road.
When the SUV finally rolled into a rest stop, voices overlapped as everyone piled out. "Bathroom break!" "Snacks run!" "Call shotgun again or I'm stealing it!"
One by one, they left. Even Jake slammed his door, muttering under his breath about "dying in that car."
And then, silence.
The second the last door shut, Ethan's hand clamped down on Harley's thigh, dragging her back harder against him. She gasped, her head tipping back onto his shoulder.
"Do you have any idea what you've been doing to me this whole drive?" he growled, his voice thick, his restraint gone.
Her words tangled in her throat. "I—Ethan—"
But he didn't wait. His other hand slid beneath the hem of her dress, rough with urgency. She squirmed, heat flooding her skin.
"Ethan—someone could—"
"Everyone's outside," he cut in, his mouth grazing her ear. "And you're not getting away this time."
With a swift, hungry motion, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric of her underwear, tugging it aside with a force that made her gasp. His palm pressed hard, unbearably, making her whimper.
"Finally," he muttered, his lips trailing fire down her neck. "No interruptions. No distractions. Just you, where I want you."
Harley's head spun, her body arching against him, every nerve alive under his touch. The car rocked gently with their movements, the tinted windows barely shielding their secret.
---
Outside, one of her brother's friends paused mid-step, frowning at the SUV.
"Uh… why is the car… shaking?"
The group turned, squinting.
"Earthquake?" someone suggested flatly.
"We're in Ohio, bro," another snorted.
Jake folded his arms, jaw tight, suspicion flashing in his eyes. "I swear to—"
"Relax," one of the others interrupted, shrugging. "They're probably just moving bags around. Making space. Chill."
"Yeah, making space," another echoed with a grin, earning a wave of laughter that drowned out Jake's protest.
Back inside the SUV, Harley bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound, her whole body trembling against Ethan's grip.
Back inside the SUV, Harley's pulse raced so fast it hurt. Ethan's grip locked on her waist as the last voices outside faded, his chest pressed solid against her back. The car rocked gently with their movements, but his voice cut sharper than the motion.
"Stay still," he ordered, low and demanding in her ear.
Her body betrayed her instantly — trembling, aching. She clutched the seat in front of her but whispered back, ragged, "I can't… I want more."
His breath hitched, rough against her neck. "Say it again."
"I want more," she confessed, her voice cracking under the weight of it.
That was all it took. Ethan's restraint snapped. His hand slid higher, cupping her breast firmly through the thin fabric, his other hand pressing her tighter down against him. The car jolted with their rhythm, every motion harder, more frantic.
Harley's moans spilled free, muffled into his shoulder but louder than she'd ever dared. Ethan's voice broke into a ragged growl, gasping against her ear, both of them tumbling over that edge together. The air thickened with their release, their gasps and low cries blending until the SUV rocked one last time and went still.
For a long second, Harley sagged against him, her chest heaving, her face flushed. Then she let out a shaky laugh, half-whimper, half-complaint. "Ethan… my underwear is soaked."
He chuckled against her skin, still catching his breath, but his tone stayed dark and commanding. "Then you're going to the restroom. You're changing. Now."
Her cheeks burned hotter, but the order made her body ache all over again.
And outside, the voices grew louder, footsteps crunching back toward the car, still joking about "making space" — utterly clueless to the storm that had just shaken the SUV from the inside.