Page 74 of Oh, Hell No

I smiled. “It’s not like I went around flashing everyone.”

His palm came down on the other side. “No, but don’t think that there was a fucking male there that didn’t check out your ass.”

I rolled my eyes, and he squeezed my butt and jerked me up to him.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. You don’t call me, and you just went and put yourself in other men’s spank banks.”

“What would you have me wear when I go there? This barely shows cleavage and hits at my knees.”

“One of my long-sleeved shirts, a pair of baggy sweatpants, some dark sunglasses, and a baseball cap.”

I burst into laughter, and a small grin tugged on his lips.

“I’ll remember that,” I said.

“I’m fucking serious.”

“You are not. You’re smiling.”

His eyes softened. “Because your laugh is one of my favorite sounds. It used to be my favorite, but it got bumped last night when you came on my cock.”

I licked my lips, then pulled my bottom one between my teeth. My panties were already wet because of that kiss, but now, they were soaked.

He wrapped a strand of my hair around his finger. “Why were you waiting to call me?”

I did not want to talk about that. I wanted to get naked and have him fuck me on the table.

“I needed a minute. Seeing Perry isn’t easy, and Marley cries on the ride back. Kinda wanted to clear my head.”

Please let it go now.

His eyes darkened. “And you blame me for that?”

I started to say no, but stopped. That wasn’t entirely true. Lying to him wasn’t any way to start this thing—relationship—we were doing.

“Yes, but I also blame Perry. He deserves to pay for his crime; it’s just hard to see it.”

Oz was silent as he stared at me. His jaw was clenched, and the expression on his face made me wish I had lied. That we weren’t talking about this. That I hadn’t even mentioned Perry.

“If I had the power to get him out for you, I would. But this is out of my hands.” He sounded so pained. His words thick and heavy, as if he truly meant them.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He grabbed my chin, stopping me from saying more. “No. You always tell me. Even if it hurts, tell me. I can’t always fix it, and it might tear me up inside because I can’t, but I want to know. I need to know where your head is.”

I was going to cry. My emotions were already a mess, and then he said stuff like that.

I nodded.

He ran the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. “Tell me what to do to make you happy.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“No, you’re sad.”

His phone buzzed again. He still ignored it.

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