19

ASHTON

Neither of us uttered a word as we drove home, the silence hanging heavy between us. Each passing second only added to the weight, making time feel slow and burdensome. Lennox reached out to adjust the air vents, his tattooed fingers moving languidly, almost sensually, as he opened one. A rush of cold air gushed out, but it did little to alleviate the heat that seemed to radiate from my skin.

I found myself licking my lips repeatedly, a nervous habit that seemed futile. My arousal grew, pulsating with an intense desire to be satisfied, to be touched and to touch in return. I forced my gaze onto the highway, gripping the leather steering wheel tightly, my hands clenching with determination. Lennox's heated gaze shifted back and forth between the road, where paparazzi trailed my Audi, and me. It was a constant oscillation: road, then me; road, then me.

I was used to being watched and observed, constantly under the scrutiny of strangers, cameramen, and people in general. But neve