Feeling the slight coolness of his soft, thin lips on hers again, Clara Grant's eyes suddenly flew wide open.
This was the third time he had kissed her so unexpectedly.
And all three times had been in a car.
'Did Seth Quinn have some kind of weird fetish for making out in cars,' Clara wondered, 'or maybe car-kissing syndrome?'
Sensing her distraction, Seth Quinn covered her eyes with his hand, forcing them shut. "Focus."
Since his lips were still on hers, his words came out muffled.
"Wha—" Clara began to ask instinctively, but the moment she parted her lips, his tongue took the opportunity to slip into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Clara was forced to accept his deep kiss, her small, delicate tongue tangling with his. Their saliva mingled, becoming indistinguishable.
As if a simple kiss wasn't enough, his hands started to get restless. He slid one to the hem of her shirt, lifted it slightly, and his large hand slipped nimbly inside like a fish.
