Lysa's POV
My hands were shaking as I stared at Jason's lap, my face burning with mortification at what I'd accidentally noticed. The evidence of his arousal was impossible to ignore in the confined space of the car, and I had no idea what to do with that information.
"I—what do I—" I stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Jason's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine. His palm was burning hot against mine, almost uncomfortably so, like he was running a fever.
"I—" His voice was strained, rough in a way I'd never heard before. "I hope you can help me, Lysa."
"Help you how?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.
His grip tightened on my hand, and he started to guide it toward—
I yanked my hand back like I'd been burned, my eyes going wide. "I
