His eyes widen in surprise as he tracks the motion of her hand beneath her skirt [he'll helpfully assist her in removing her panties, but she's hanging them from the rearview mirror as some sort of reward before the offer can leave his lips, and that's good enough for him]. "I like Rachel fucking Berry better," he decides, his hand sliding from her skirt to her hip as she turns to kiss him, her lips full and soft against his. "You're better than that yenta, babe. I don't wanna think about her when I'm thinking about you." His fingers find the strip of skin where her cardigan, silky camisole, and skirt meet, rubbing back and forth, callused fingertips smoothing over her skin. "We need to stop anywhere before we go back to my house or we good to go?" he asks softly, his eyes on hers.