The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 677

The temperature inside the car spiked with their heated breaths.

Despite the noise outside, the interior was so quiet they could only hear the pounding of their own hearts and the soft sound of their lips moving together.

Catherine's grip on the hem of his shirt tightened, and she pushed against him with all her might, only for him to hook an arm around her waist and drag her right back the moment a gap formed between them.

His raw, masculine scent filled every corner of the cabin, mingling with the soft gasp that slipped past her lips.

As the seductive tension peaked, her rationality began to slip away; his grip on her slender wrists loosened, gently guiding her hands to rest on his waist.

It was only then that she realized she was straddling his lap.

She had been sitting in his lap from the moment she got into the car.

Even though it had been a long time since their divorce, they still shared two years of intimate history.

Memories buried deep in her mind surfaced, the familiar sensation igniting a sudden, greedy yearning within her.

A yearning for the warmth of his embrace, which felt far more comforting now than it ever had before.

Starved of oxygen, her instincts kicked in; she pushed him away and turned her head, gasping for air.

Lance, clearly unsatisfied, dragged his tongue over his damp lips.

"You're very useful."

His voice was a gravelly rasp as he answered her earlier question.

Catherine's ears flushed crimson, a burning wave of heat washing over her as she scrambled to slide off his lap.

But since he was sitting in the middle seat, she ended up dropping onto the cushion next to him, her legs still draped across his thighs.

In the scuffle, her professional skirt, which already rested above her knees, had ridden all the way up to her upper thighs.

Her long, slender legs were smooth and luminous, beautifully exposed.

Lance's hand rested casually against her calf; with his long fingers slightly curled, he could almost wrap his entire hand around it.

"I need to go home. Lanny will throw a fit."

"Who?" Lance tilted his head, watching her closely.

She hurriedly smoothed her hair, her face burning under his intense gaze. "Me."

"To do what?" he pressed.