“Well, it is for me. So yeah, I’ll eat your pussy daily if you want.”
Hmm. Could I marry my best friend, sleep with him, and let him eat me out ... Every. Single. Day?
Um ... yes. Yes, I could.
“Alright then, but I want that in our wedding vows. Let’s do it.” I stab at the cake again and lift the fork to my mouth, but Gabe pulls my arm away and cake goes flying across the parlor.
“Yeah?”
I shrug. “Why the hell not?”
He jumps up from the couch and grips my waist, pulling me from my perch. He spins us around and then I slowly slip down his perfect body as he sets me on my feet. Gabe lowers his head to mine and kisses me on the lips. It’s a peck ... that quickly turns into two or three. I giggle against his mouth, and he laughs too. I don’t know which of us opens their mouth first, but his tongue slips inside and slides against my own. Gabe threads his handsin my hair, and I run mine up his hard chest and across his broad shoulders. A moan slips free of my throat, swallowed by his mouth on mine.
“What the fuck are you two doin’?” Mace calls from the back door, and we break apart like star-crossed lovers.
I laugh and cover my mouth. Gabe is smiling ear to ear, and I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling as he stares at me.
“We’re celebrating,” Gabe says.
“Celebrating what?”
“We’re getting married.”
“Yeah, that’s a good one.” Mace shakes his head in disbelief.
“Lo just said yes,” Gabe says, his tone cold as liquid granite. I glance between my best friend and his employee. Mace’s hands are clenched into fists at his side and his dark eyes narrow on me.
“In three years,” I correct.
Gabe shrugs. “Right, but a yes in three years is still a yes.”
“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” Mace growls, directing his question at me, and I’m not sure why I’m the one in trouble here all of a sudden.None of this was my idea. “There’s only one way that shit ends and it’s with you two fucking and then avoiding one another for the next ten years.”
“Don’t be a cockhead, Mace.” Gabe wraps his arm around my shoulder. “My best friend just agreed to marry me. What could go wrong?”
“When we’re thirty,” I finish.
Gabe’s mouth turns down at the corners. “What?”
“I agreed to marry you if we’re single when we’re thirty.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine when we’re thirty.”
“If we’re still single then,” I add.
“Yeah, assuming we’re not both in serious relationships.”
“Mmmhmm,” Mace says, gathering up his wallet and keys. “I give it ten minutes. You two will be tearing one another’s clothesoff and then you’ll be throwing shit out onto the front lawn in the midst of a breakup.”
I laugh. “This is Venice Beach, who the hell has a front lawn?”
Gabe smirks. “What she said.”
“Mark my words,” Mace continues. “This is the worst idea you two have ever had.” He heads to the front door.
“Come on, Mace,” I whine. “Don’t go. Celebrate with us.”
“Sorry, I’m not up for celebrating stupidity.”