“Googling the distances between our work? Sounds like you really have it bad,” I tease, sliding my hand up her leg and tugging her closer.
She looks up at me from under those lashes, and completely rocks my world with her next words.
“Maybe I do.”
***
“You didn’t!” she squeals, laughing uncontrollably as I nod.
“Totally did,” I tell her, grinning. “And I fucking won it too.”
She clutches her side, lying back on the bed as she laughs too hard. Why can’t I stop telling her things? It’s like she’s this amazing little enigma that has me baring my soul—and my whole life story—every second of the day.
“You won a womanless beauty pageant? You? Mr. Badass?”
My eyebrows go up. “I’m so going to get cards made with Mr. Badass on them.”
She laughs again as I wiggle my eyebrows, and I stand up to do something I never thought I would in front of anyone I knew. I do the winning catwalk for her, hip shakes and all.
Her laughter pours out, and I chuckle as I go back to crash on the bed beside her.
“I used Shakira as my inspiration along with a little Beyoncé for some extra sexy,” I tell her, smiling as she wipes tears from her eyes, unable to catch her breath.
It’s like I can be as ridiculous as I want to be, and she only likes me more. There’s no façade, no games, no image… It’s just me, and she seems to really like me just being me.
I’ve never had that before. I’ve also never had anyone give a damn about so much of me, and I’ve never been desperate to know so much about someone as I’ve asked to know about her.
She’s addictive.
I grab my third stack of pancakes for the day, and start eating them while leaning against the headboard. After swallowing a bite, I continue with the story.
“It was for charity, but I never fucking told any of the guys that little girl talked me into doing it. She came into the damn gym and asked me right in front of a group. I played it off like I was mean to the kid and wouldn’t sign up. Then I went to the damn thing three weeks later and won. Which made her charity win all the profits.”
She rolls her eyes. “But you never told anyone? Male egos,” she says with a tsking sound, but she’s still fighting a grin.
“You like my ego and you know it,” I retort, putting down my pancakes—the evil wonders of the world—and pulling her over until she’s on top of me. Then I grab one more bite of pancakes, because that shit is good.
“I do,” she confesses with a sigh. “Want me to stroke your ego for a little while?” she adds, catching me so off guard that I laugh and shoot pancakes out of my mouth, spraying them on the bed, but not on her.
She bursts out laughing, while I roll my eyes, but then I start laughing too when she has to peel a pancake particle from her leg. Guess it didn’t miss her after all.
It just fuels her laughter, and she leans up, kissing me, silencing the laughter in the room as my hands slide around her waist and draw her closer. I can tell her anything except how much I’m dreading leaving this place and facing the real world.
I don’t want to lose this moment.
***
One more day.
In one more day, we’ll be back home where I’ll be buried neck-deep in a backed-up list of shit to do instead of being buried balls-deep in Bo.
My eyes drift to her as she sleeps in the middle of the bed, stirring as she reaches out for me subconsciously. It takes all my willpower not to climb back in the bed with her, but I have shit to do.
Dustin is about to head down the stairs when I walk out, and a grin spreads across his face when he sees me.
“I’m guessing the shy ones are fun in bed, considering you’ve barely come out for the past few days.”
Why do I want to punch him for even thinking about Bo in bed?