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“I need to hear you say you won’t have car sex,” Olivia replies firmly. Ilona feels the blood drain from her face and she turns, unsurprised that Alan is smirking at her with amusement. She takes her phone off of speaker.
“Hello?” Olivia calls, frustrated at the silence that’s greeted her request.
“We’ll behave,” Alan calls, voice echoing through the vehicle’s interior before he shuts the trunk.
“You could’ve told me he was there,” Olivia hisses.
“He wasn’t at first,” Ilona explains while Alan slides back into the driver’s seat. He buckles up and they’re in motion in no time, his hand settling on her thigh once again as he heads for home.
“You’re actually exhausting,” Olivia says, “No car sex.”
“Yes, Mom,” Ilona replies sarcastically, unsurprised when there’s not another reply from her sister, but the repeated beep of Olivia ending the call.
“Love you too,” she jokes to the dark phone screen. Ilona slides her phone into one of the cupholders, hazarding a glance in Alan’s direction as she sits back, pressing her burning skin against the cool leather of the seat. He’s grinning, head bobbing in time with the absurdly on-the-nose Harry Styles song that’s just started playing. He’s the picture of smug satisfaction, fully aware he’s got her right where he wants her, squirming in his passenger seat.
“Car sex?” He wonders casually, taking advantage of a red light to make some searing eye contact with her.
“As if you haven’t been thinking about it,” she replies easily. She lets the crown of her head fall against the seat, shrugging at him in an attempt to downplay how desperate she is for him again. Already. Jesus.
“Just good to know we’re on the same page,” he muses. He cocks his head and readjusts his grip on her thigh, his hand squeezing tighter at her taut skin, her sinewed muscles yielding under his insistent touch, “Thinking about it.”
“Drive faster. Please.”