Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
He grins at me, a big beautiful smile that melts me into a puddle.
“You sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down.
I tilt my head back, smile against his lips as they press against mine.
“So?” I ask him softly as he pulls back.
“I can’t do the friend thing anymore either,” he says, “even though you’re still my best one. And I don’t want to just fuck you, though I have to say, I love fucking you. I want you to be mine, through and through. Mine and only mine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Never been so sure of something in all my life,” he says to me. “And it feels bloody good.”
Bliss. This is pure bliss. This is sunshine in my veins, sunbursts in my heart. This is everything I’ve wanted to hear.
Almost. But I have no doubt, we’ll get there.
Won’t we?
“What are you doing later?” he asks me. “I’d invite you over to the apartment right now but it’s like Venice Beach up in there.”
“Why?”
“Scooby has a bunch of buskers over. I told him it was fine, as long as the fire breather stayed away from the curtains. I double-checked that we had a fire extinguisher just in case.”
“Well…” I say slowly. “Actually, I have plans and I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.”
“Where?”
I wince. “Out for lunch with my father and my aunt.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing better.”
“Yeah, supposedly. And I know I can do it on my own and it’s not just about the moral support, I just really want you to see him, meet him, when he’s sober.”
“I’ve met your father before, Marina. Sober. I know he’s a good man, you don’t have to try and prove anything to me.”
“I know but…” I trail off.
He squeezes my hand. “I’ll come. For sure.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Did you know that bees, ants and ravens are the only species, other than humans, that can communicate time and distance to each other?”
Laz’s brows twitch. “You’re nervous.”
“Because I’m talking about bees?”
“Yes. It’s a tell of yours. Like, if I was a detective interrogating you, that would be one of your tells. I’d ask you if it was you that robbed the bank and you’d tell me that when the worker bees kill the queen, they basically cuddle her to death.”
“It’s also called a murder ball,” I tell him, impressed that he remembered that fact. We’re sitting in his car, waiting outside P.F. Changs in a mall parking lot. We’re early to meet my father and Margaret, which, yes, has given me plenty of time to be nervous. “Do I have any other tells?”
“Well I know the ones when you’re nervous. Not sure if that always means you’re lying.”
“I never lie.”
“Bullshit.” His mouth curves into a bemused smile. “You lied just then. I saw your tell.”
“Which is?”
“You press your lips together afterward. Like you’re trying not to smile.”
He’s probably right. When I do lie, I often feel like laughing, like I never think I’ll pull it off.
“So, what’s my tell?” he asks.
I study him for a moment. His strong jaw, those lips that bring me to another place, those dark, arched expressive brows that tell me everything and the moody, intense eyes underneath.
I smile.
“What?” he asks, frowning.
“I just like looking at your face,” I say, feeling a rush of love for him flow through me. “It’s a good face. The best face. But I can’t tell your tell, you have to lie about something.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, thinking it over. “I absolutely do not want to fuck you right here in this car in this parking lot.’
I laugh. “Fine. I guess that works. I’d say then that your tell is that you don’t blink when you lie. Your gaze intensifies.”
He mulls that over, tapping his fingers on his chin as he eyes himself in the rearview mirror. “Hmmm.”
“By the way, I’m totally down for some car fucking right now,” I tell him, putting my hand behind his neck and pulling him toward me, marveling that holy shit, I can do this. I can touch him and kiss him and fuck him in his car because he’s mine. “Or anytime really.”
He raises a brow. “Is that so?”
“Mmm hmmm,” I say as he leans in and kisses me.
My heart trips, picks itself up, soars. Like the mere act of his lips pressing against mine can jolt my heart, bring me back to life.
“Isn’t that your dad?” he asks against my mouth.
Not the words I want to hear right now.
I open my eyes to see his eyes focused in the distance then turn in my seat and see my father and my Aunt Margaret walking into the restaurant.
“Guess we better go,” I say, though my throat feels like it’s closing up.
It’s been just over two weeks since I last saw my father. After Laz and I went to Lancaster and had to deal with him, I ended up putting on the brakes. I ignored my aunt’s phone calls, I ignored his too. I didn’t know what I was going to hear when I finally picked up.