Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes. “Go find Fitz before you accidentally embarrass me any more.”
Jamie giggles and offers us a wiggly-fingered wave while floating into the crowd, searching for Fitz.
“Are you smitten with me?” Ozzy asks, cocking his head to the side.
I’m in love with you.
“I’m shook. You’ve shooketh me. I love my job, but I’m dreading more inevitable trips out of town and not seeing you. I’m”—I shake my head and twist my lips—“not smitten. It’s more of an addiction. What about you? How are you doing? I bet you’re not even fazed, not one bit. I’m sure time flies in your busy life. You have Lola and her grandparents to keep your mind in the moment. And your mom. Your job. Gardening. Fixing people’s cars on the side. There’s no way you miss me when I’m gone.”
Ozzy narrows his eyes and slowly wets his lips before rubbing them together. “Are you done?”
I clear my throat and nod once before sipping my wine.
He surveys the room, grabs my arm, and leads me to a less congested corner by the split staircase. “I go out of my fucking mind when you’re out of town. If anything happens to you, I have nothing more than a bicycle to get to you. And I hate that you work in a male-dominated field, and you could close your eyes and randomly point to anyone else in any room who’s more equipped for dating you than I am.”
My heart doesn’t know what to do. The butterflies in my belly devour his words like sweet nectar while my heart stumbles into an uneven rhythm because he feels inadequate.
I step closer, dragging my teeth along my lower lip several times before speaking. “Listen when I say, at the risk of sounding like I sleep around a lot—which I don’t, but I’m in my thirties, so cut me some slack—you are very well equipped to date me and do plenty of other things to me.”
The pain along his handsome face intensifies. “See, that’s not helpful because this isn’t my house or yours. And I have a bike with no back seat. And it’s been almost a week since I’ve been alone with you—”
I slide my hand to the back of his neck, lift onto my toes, and press my lips to his. He tastes like beer and smells woodsy. And I quickly melt into the familiarity of his body touching mine. It’s all a heady combination. “I have a car with a back seat,” I murmur over his mouth.
“I just got here. Don’t you think we should mingle or dance before we disappear?”
“Nobody’s dancing.” I laugh, releasing his neck.
Ozzy hooks his free hand around my waist, keeping me close to him. “Well, we need to rectify that.” He moves his hips, swaying our bodies to Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself.”
He mouths the words to me, and I break into a fit of giggles. And of course, I can’t help but wonder if he does think about me and touch himself.
“You’re blushing,” he says, ducking his head until his lips brush my ear. “I fucking love watching you touch yourself.”
Now I’m having flashbacks of our weekend together, and my blush works its way across every inch of my skin. The wine doesn’t help.
We dance in our little corner of the room. I turn so my back is to him, and he rests his big hand along my stomach, pulling me to him again. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against him and let him dance, sway, and seduce me to a four-minute song. When it ends, I finish my wine and welcome the buzz. I’ll be catching a ride home with Jamie and Fitz.
“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Ozzy says, adjusting himself as I turn toward him.
“Come, you two. Badminton in the backyard. Gary just got the lights to work,” Jamie says as Fitz pulls her toward the back door.
I wrinkle my nose at Ozzy. “Let’s grab some food, play a game or two, then we can sneak out. Okay?”
Biting his lips together, eyes wide, he relinquishes a slow nod that’s not overly enthusiastic.
“I’m worth the wait.” I wink, taking his hand.
“I’m well aware, but it doesn’t make the wait any easier.”
I like his impatient, slightly grumpy side—my brooding guy.
“More wine?” Evette follows us outside with a bottle of red in her hand.
“I’m going to need a ride home,” I say with a fake frown while holding out my empty glass for a refill.
“Can I get you another beer?” she asks Ozzy.
“I’m good. I can’t get a ride home.”
My grin dies, but he shakes off my reaction with a quick mumbled “Don’t” and drops a kiss on my lips. “Never feel sorry for me,” he whispers with his mouth brushing mine several times.
“I don’t. You’re getting laid in the back seat of a RAV4 in approximately forty-five minutes.”