“What are you twelve? I’m not going to the aquarium. I have other things to do.”
“Like what?” Luke asks.
“Like…” Like messing around with Whit, that’s what.
Luke rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “Yeah, you got nothing. Now I know you want to mess around with your boyfriend all weekend, but you’ve been talking about going to this aquarium for months, so here we are.”
“That wasn’t me. That was Mal,” I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, well, he’s coming too. Meeting us there. So, get your ass up and let’s get a move on before traffic hits,” Sem says.
I groan and stand up, rubbing at my backside as I do. Whit smirks.
“I’m so going to get you back for this later,” I tell him quietly, and he flushes prettily.
God, this guy. I want to kiss him but refrain. If I start, I won’t want to stop.
* * *
We make it to the aquarium in record time because traffic is light. I obviously couldn’t keep my hands to myself in the car when Whit looked so good behind the wheel. I might have slightly taken advantage of the fact that he needed to focus on the road. My hands traveled over his thighs, up to his stomach, and I spent an exorbitant amount of time playing with his nipples.
I could see his arousal from where I sat, straining against his pants, but he wouldn’t let me touch it. Just arched that eyebrow at me when I tried.
So I avoided it.
But kept on touching him relentlessly until he parked the car.
Jokes on me, though, because he just slides out of the car likeno big dealwhile I’m aching.
Fuck this guy.
I take several deep breaths and then step out of the car. I stretch, and my shirt lifts a bit, showing off the bottom of my stomach. Whit takes a quick look and then glances away. His bottom lip rolls between his teeth.
“Caught you looking,” I say to him as I bump his shoulder.
He clears his throat but admits nothing, just nudges me back. I don’t understand this guy. How he can be so controlling in the bedroom and yet blushes like a schoolgirl when he sees just a bit of my stomach? It’s confusing and yet so endearing.
I want to hold his hand, but his are stuffed inside his jeans, so I leave it. For a second, I wonder if maybe he doesn’t want to publicly claim me. Maybe he’s embarrassed by me. I glance down at my grey t-shirt, torn jeans, and boots. I tug my hat down slightly lower on my head, and Whit glances at the movement.
“What?” I ask as we move toward the ticket booth.
“Nothing,” he replies, moving into line. I nudge him again, and he huffs. “You’re like an overeager puppy.”
“Didn’t hear you complain earlier.”
Whit grins as we slowly move up to the front of the line. “If you must know,” he says softly, “I was thinking how handsome you look today.”
I preen and feel myself puff up. “That so, Mr. Cristian?”
“Yes, that’s so.”
“You know,” I say, leaning over so I can say this quietly into his ear. “Always thought you’d like someone who dressed more like Magnus.”
Whit hums under his breath and then says back, “I like the hat. It…does things to me.”
My eyebrows rise at that nugget. “That so? Tell me more.”
He glances away from me and then says, “I think you should wear it next time we’re alone.” Then he leans over and mutters. “Backwards and with you completely nude.”