The Uber was packed, the air thick with discomfort as you and your friends were wedged into the backseat. It was cramped, hot, and every inch of space felt suffocating.

When Leah suggested you sit on Alex’s lap, you immediately shot her down, but before you could protest any further, Alex’s strong hands were already gripping your waist, pulling you down onto his lap with surprising force.

You stiffened, trying to create as much distance between you as possible, but the car hit a bump and you lost your balance, falling against him.

His hands moved instantly, gripping your hips to steady you. His touch was firm, possessive, and it made your skin feel like it was on fire. The more the car bounced, the closer you were pressed against him, and no matter how much you tried to shift away, it was impossible.

His hand moved lower, sliding dangerously close to your inner thigh. You felt his fingers graze your skin, sending a spark of heat through your body. It was slow, deliberate, like he was testing the boundaries.

“Stop,” Alex murmured, his voice rough, almost in a growl. His breath was warm against your ear, making your skin tingle. His hand didn’t pull back; instead, it lingered, pressing lightly against your thigh.

You wanted to move, to push him away, but the car’s constant jolts and his unyielding grip kept you trapped. The tension was unbearable, and you couldn’t escape the closeness, the heat, or the feeling of his touch.