“I love this show. It’s a classic,” was all he said as he shifted closer to watch it with me.

We were several episodes in when the sky started to darken. I glanced out at the passing scenery to distract myself. Through every episode, he found subtle ways to touch me, whether it was resting his hand on my thigh or moving it down to gently cup my knee.

All of my senses were on high alert.

The others were entirely unaware of how he delicately seduced me, how I felt ready to burst with the need to touch him back. I could’ve told him to stop. I could’ve gone and sat in the empty seat next to Isaac, but I didn’t. Much as I hated to admit it, I liked what he was doing. I had missed touch. I relished the quiet dance we engaged in, even though I wasn’t sure where it would lead.

I was relieved when the time came to visit the dining cart. I practically inhaled my soup and sandwich, then went to stretch my legs by walking up and down the carriages.

I reached the end of the very last carriage and found a small, empty storage space where I could take a breath. It was quiet here, and I savoured the moment alone as I leaned back against the wall.

Being on this train was like being trapped in a temptation bubble full of sexual tension.

I closed my eyes, but all I saw was Trev. I was so sensitised to his touch I could still feel the phantom impression of his hand on my knee.

Needing a distraction, I pulled out my phone and found a new text from Karla. She asked how everything was going and I started to type a reply when the sliding door clicked open. Thinking it was someone looking for the bathroom, I shifted out of the way, my attention fixed to my phone when familiar fingers pulled it from my grasp.

“Who are you texting?” Trev asked. His voice held a guttural quality. Was he as worked up as I was? We inhabited such rocky territory; one wrong move and the thin grasp we both had on control would snap.

I glanced up and grabbed my phone back. “Just Karla.” He stood way too close, the heady scent of his cologne putting me on a knife’s edge.

“Ah,” he said, his bright eyes twinkling as he stared me down.

“W-what’s up?” I asked clumsily, feeling out of sorts. It was too quiet back here, too private, and Trev’s proximity seemed to soak up all the oxygen.

He tilted his head in a way that made my heart flutter. “I was just wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

I made a gesture with my hands. “Well, here I am.”

Anticipation filled the air until I felt too hot, stifled almost. A whimper nearly escaped me, but I managed to hold it in. There was barely an inch of space between us. If I moved the tiniest bit, my breasts would brush against him. My body was screaming out for the friction.

Trev’s expression turned soft, his attention focused on my mouth when he murmured, “Here you are.”

“What did you—”

My words were cut short when he gripped my neck, pulled me to him, and crushed his lips to mine. I gasped, my mouth opening in surprise, and he took advantage of the moment to plunge his tongue inside. Every pore in my body tightened, every tiny hair stood on end, as a kaleidoscope of colours flashed behind my eyes.

His kiss spanned ultraviolet to infrared.

It was need and unleashed repression.

It sated the want I’d felt in the past month, and so much more.

Trev pushed me back against the wall until his sculpted body fit into all my soft curves. It was violent, almost angry, but heady in a way I’d never known. Pent-up desire released like butterflies fleeing a net.

He let out a sound of pure, unadulterated male desire, half grunt, half groan. If I could capture it on a recording, I was sure Nicki Minaj would want to sample it on one of her tracks.

His hand moved from my neck and down my chest to press over my heart. I swore it stopped beating for a second. In my head, I heard an entire symphony: there were strings and brass, percussion and woodwinds, and then, at the centre of it all, a single grand piano playing a tune that captured every feeling I had for this crazy, beautiful, messed-up wonder of a man.

His tongue was relentless, his lips devouring me like he was starved. My body tingled with heat, and when he dragged his mouth from mine to gasp in my ear, “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks,” I melted into a pile of boneless goo.

I brought both my hands to his neck and pulled him to me. This time I was the one who kissed him. Now that I’d gotten a taste, there was no going back. I was one hundred per cent doing this and a thousand-man standing army couldn’t stop me.

I whimpered when his hand dipped low to squeeze my arse. His other hand tried to join in, but the cast meant he couldn’t do much. Trev groaned his frustration but didn’t break the kiss. Instead he manoeuvred us to a private corner where we wouldn’t be seen.

His free hand slid up my spine. His fingers brushed the back of my neck then wandered down. I trembled and gripped his strong, muscular shoulders, my hands slowly moving along his back, my fingertips exploring every hard dip and indent of his athletic form.

Again, his injured hand pressed clumsily against my side. He broke away long enough to swear under his breath before he was on me again. His other hand explored my front, moving up my stomach to massage my breast. Never more had I wished to be anywhere but on a public bloody train somewhere between France and Spain.

His need set me on fire, his hunger so great I practically shivered with desperate trepidation. When his fingers dipped inside the waistband of my jeans and pressed against my wet heat, I let out a loud, erotic moan. Trev grunted and his hand slipped past the elastic of my underwear. When his fingers found my wetness, my eyes drifted shut. My mouth left his as my head fell back against the wall of the carriage.

“Oh God,” I gasped and opened my eyes. I was met with a look so fierce that I had to close them again. Trev watched me, absorbing my every reaction. His fingers moved in a tantalising rhythm against my sex. My entire body shuddered when he swiped a thumb over my clit.

My thighs clenched and I arched my spine, pushing into him, feeling like I couldn’t get close enough. He started kissing me again, but this time it was less frantic, slower—sensual. His circles on my clit matched the tempo of his kiss, building up the pleasure until I couldn’t hold back for a second longer.

I came with a sharp, breathless cry and buried my face in his neck. Trev didn’t move his hand, instead making a deep, satisfied hum in the back of his throat as his fingers dipped inside me. I moaned at the exquisite invasion, arching my back again to grant him better access.