Score: Photograph - Ed Sheeran

Lydia

Shocked, I gasp and pull away and then I curse myself mentally for making this awkward. My subconscious scurries in helpfully, patting me on the back and reassuring me that it was probably just a mistake.

He was probably aiming for the cheek again.

Mark couldn't have kissed me on purpose. Could he? My head is going to explode right now. I am slightly aware of the fact that I am sweating.

And that I don't want it to have been a mistake.

Even though I pull away, I feel the urge to grab Mark's face and kiss him again, hard and deep, even though I know I shouldn't.

I really shouldn't. I have Patrick and I owe it to him not to do anything stupid.

Cross that.

I owe it to myself not to do anything stupid. I owe it to myself not to distract myself from my revision with yet another complication, in my already overcomplicated life. I have to stay focused. I have been thinking about Mark enough without us actually complicating things so far, to allow myself to be doing this right now.

I smile awkwardly and pretend nothing happened, as I reach with one hand for the door handle, and unbuckle my seat belt with the other. With a rushed "See you tomorrow," I move to get out of the car.

And in this brief moment, I feel like my brain somehow switches off.

I cannot think straight anymore. I am suddenly blinded by a light inside my skull, which is so fucking bright, and I can hear a deafening ringing in my ears, which is blocking the words he is saying.

I can see him with the corner of my eye, still turned towards me in the driver's seat, his lips moving, but I cannot make a sound of what he is saying.

I feel like my rational mind leaves my body and watches in horror, as I withdraw my hand from the door handle and turn to face Mark. I do not look him in the eyes but go straight for his mouth as I crash my lips on his and lean into him.

He doesn't pull away. He doesn't say anything, but just reaches for the back of my head, pulling me closer. My lips part and his tongue is quick to dart between them, eager to meet mine. He moves around feverishly, spreading my lips further to allow for his mouth to fully claim mine.

The ringing in my ears is so high-pitched now that it is threatening to split my skull open, the blazing light behind my closed eyes burning me and I am afraid that if I open them, the light may actually incinerate them.

I am lost, so lost in this moment. There is nothing in the world right now, apart from us kissing in the car, and it is the most wonderful, exciting feeling.

I lean further into him and he pulls me across the console to climb onto his lap, pushing the seat back to make more space for me to straddle him. I take a mental note of how hot and considerate this simple movement is and can't help but wonder if he has done it before.

I moan into his mouth as I sit on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.

Our lips haven't parted since we began this madness and I break contact briefly, just to look into his eyes and to catch my breath. He doesn't say anything. He simply stares into my eyes, and there are no questions, no judgment in his, only hunger, for me.

He reaches with his hand and gently cups my cheek, pulling my face towards his, and kisses me again.

My rational mind is left gawking in the passenger seat, mouth wide open, watching helplessly as my body completely takes over. She wants to scream at me, pull me by the hair, and drag me out of this car and away from Mark, away from his hungry mouth and raking hands, which are burning white-hot trails across my entire body.

Not tonight, love, I tell her. Not tonight.

I dig my fingers into Mark's hair and moan loudly as he bites my bottom lip.

And then...

"I need you to move over," he says into my mouth, hand still cupping my face.

What. The. Fuck.

I detach my mouth from his, feeling the hot waves of humiliation splash against my face, and I am sure, just absolutely fucking positive, that my cheeks have turned bright crimson.

My rational mind has plastered the least pleasant smirk she is capable of, as she is looking at me from her seat, enjoying the show.

"It was too good to be true, darling," she says, shaking her head, digging into her popcorn.

Just as I am about to say something, I am sure, highly inappropriate, Mark reads my mind and says softly:

"No, baby."

Baby? Where did that come from?

"I just need you to move over, so that I can move the car. You don't want everyone, who passes the car, to see us making out, right under the lamppost, right?" He grins at me mischievously.

Oh.

The amount of relief I feel is indescribable, and I quickly move over to the passenger seat again and watch him impatiently as he moves the car out of the light and parks in the darkest spot possible, away from my building's entrance.

Without a word, he turns to me, grabs my arms, and pulls me back onto his lap. I straddle him again and this time he grips my jacket and looks intently into my eyes, asking for permission to take it off.

The need and hunger in my eyes give out my answer and he quickly removes my leather jacket and tosses it in the back seat.

His hands press into my hips and he pulls me towards him and I can feel how hard he is through our clothes, as I roll my hips onto his.

"Fuck," he curses and rolls his head back, closing his eyes. My eyes lock on the exposed skin of his neck and I latch onto it, kissing, licking, tasting.

His hands are shamelessly traveling all over my body, my black t-shirt now the only barrier between his hands and my burning skin. He grips the rim of the fabric and tugs at it. I break contact just long enough for him to pull my top up and over my head.

My rational mind is literally screaming right now, waving red flags and blowing horns, but she is quickly silenced as he tosses my t-shirt in her face on the passenger seat.

Good. I don't need her around tonight anyway.

I am burning, literally burning, with an actual fever.

I notice that all the windows of the car are covered in perspiration, droplets of moisture traveling down here and there. The air in the car is thick and warm like honey and my skin is covered in a thin sheath of sweat.

Mark leans back in the seat and gently presses me against the steering wheel, his hands on my hips, and just takes my body in for a second, his hooded eyes traveling up and down my face, my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach. I am only in my track pants and black, lacy bra now, and I suddenly feel so sexy under his gaze. I mentally pat myself on the back for putting on decent underwear.

"You are so beautiful, Lyds," he says, his voice low and raspy. "And you have learned a thing or two since the last time I kissed you."

I blush and smile. "You remember?"

"Of course, I remember your first kiss," he teases and trails my inner arms with the index fingers of both of his hands. "I was there, remember?"

"Ha ha," I say, mocking irritation.

"Come here," he says, pulling me by my forearms back to his body. A single moan escapes my mouth, as I lean forward to kiss him.

I have the vague idea that my rational mind has set off full lights and sirens now, telling me to stop before it is too late, but there is no stopping.

Even if I wanted to, and I don't want to.

Mark reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra and I shake my arms to help him remove it, desperate to feel his touch on my sensitive skin. His eyes go wide as he looks at my bare chest and leans in, moving his burning gaze up to my eyes, as his hand cups one of my breasts and his mouth closes around the nipple of the other.

I moan at the sensation, and at the same time, he hums on my skin, his tongue slowly torturing me.

"You like that, don't you," he says, his voice low and smooth, like leather. "Answer me".

It's too fucking much. I want to scream and I may explode from Mark touching me and kissing my skin alone, but his words add so much more to the sensation.

I don't say anything, but bury my hands in his hair, pressing his face to my chest, never wanting him to stop.

He stops, nonetheless, and looks up at me, his lips dark red, swollen, and glistening from kissing me, turned up in a half-smile now. I whimper at the loss of contact and give him a scolding look.

"Say it, or I'll stop".

He really is torturing me.

I am completely out of my mind here, and it feels fucking amazing.

"I love it," I hear myself say.

He smiles and then leans forward again, his hands and mouth continuing their travel across my half-naked body.

Mark explores every inch of exposed skin with his fingers and tongue, sending jolts of electricity right through to my over-stimulated brain. I feel the familiar build-up of pressure low in my belly.

Oh, my God...Is it possible to come just from making out?

When it gets too much, I grab him by the hair and pull his mouth away from my skin, and kiss him, hard.

I need this. I need it so bad. I have been so worked up lately that I just need to stop thinking.

I am feeling alive again, I am feeling something, really, anything, in what seems like forever. I am getting completely lost in the moment, all pure passion and lust, no filter, no rational thought.

I have never allowed myself to feel this primal before, ever. I have never felt like this with Patrick...

Patrick...

Oh, Fuck!

It takes all of my barely-there willpower and almost non-existent self-control to pull away from Mark. I do not look into his eyes but just sit there, in the awkward silence that has filled the small space of the car, replacing our joined moans and gasps from just a few seconds ago.

"I really think I should go", I finally manage.

I force myself to look up at him, and, to my surprise, he is smiling at me. There is no offense in his eyes, but I can still see the desire burning there. I can also see something else, which I cannot identify right now.

"Okay," he says, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

My hair is messy, wet with sweat, and matted on my forehead and he pushes it out of my face, before kissing my cheek, as well.

Only now I notice he is still in his jeans and shirt, while I am half-naked and I feel suddenly too exposed. I reach out to the passenger seat to retrieve my bra and my top, quickly pulling the top over my head, and shoving the bra into my bag.

Still straddling him, I peek into his face one last time and I am met with his questioning gaze.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice soft.

Oh, love, where do I even begin?

"Nothing" I look away, trying to hide my flushed face in my hair. How do I explain to him just how absolutely amazing what we just did was, but that I also feel awful about it?

I can feel the painful sting of guilt piercing my chest. My rational mind has resumed her usual position inside of my brain and is currently replaying the events of five minutes ago to me, pointing out everything that was wrong and inappropriate about it, with graphics and charts and all.

Reading my mind for the second time tonight, Mark asks:

"You sure?"

I cannot be having this conversation with him right now. I just want to go home and think.

I need to think!

"Hmm, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" I say, finally leaving his lap, not looking at him.

He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pushes my face up to look me in the eye.

"Yeah, I will see you tomorrow".

On my way out of his car, I take a look at the clock on the dashboard. It's 2:30 am.

Fuck! I have completely blown my night of rest, and morning of revision now.

As I walk up the stairs of the building, I rub my arms to keep myself warm in the spring night chill. I take a mental note that I should have taken a jacket with me tonight.

Shit!

I did take a jacket. And now, it is resting on the back seat of the Discovery.

I turn around, but the car is gone.

I hurry up the stairs and, once inside the flat, I walk straight to my bedroom. Luckily, everyone's asleep now, so I do not have any awkward encounters around the house.

I remove my clothes and make-up and slam onto the bed.

I have just had the sexiest experience of my entire life, that did not even involve actual sex.

With Mark.

The aftermath of our actions in his car is filling my every sense. My burning skin, my swollen lips, the taste of his mouth on my tongue. My ears are still ringing, his smell is all over my body, and in my hair.

Every nerve ending in my body is ablaze with white-hot, unspent desire.

And yet, those sensations and emotions are tainted with the bitter guilt, gripping at my throat, choking me at the realization of the consequences of my actions.

I am wide awake and wound up, but I force myself to lay in bed, begging for sleep to come and bring relief to my tortured brain. Flashback upon flashback of what just happened change before my eyes, only adding to the dangerous potion, running through my veins.

I just cheated on Patrick. With one of my oldest friends.

With Mark.

Oh, God, what have I done!