Page 108 of Smooth Sailing

“No, actually”—he tucked some hair behind my ear (and he was skilled at that too, I knew, considering the charge of electricity that sizzled down the side of my neck when he did it)—“that’d be cool.”

“Want me to make some popcorn?”

“Babe, you made four pizzas, a huge-ass Caesar, and we went through two gallons when we made the sundaes. You can put down some popcorn?”

“Is that a no?” I asked testily, never a fan of anyone commenting on what I ate (we could just say, Dad did that a lot), and definitely not a man I liked doing it.

“No, it’s not a no. I’m just impressed.”

I relaxed and grinned at him.

“I’ll get a brew and top up your wine, you deal with the popcorn,” he said.

“Do you want microwave or oil popped?”

“You choose.”

“Oil popped with melted butter and tons of salt.”

Hugger slid his hands up my spine, murmuring, “Perfect.”

Though, the way he was looking at me gave me the sense that word had two meanings.

And damn, that felt good.

Sadly, it didn’t last long because Hugger curled up, taking me with him, and then we were on our feet.

We both headed to the kitchen.

He helped by melting the butter (another pro for the Do I Want to Explore This with Hugger List).

We cued up the movie and sat snuggled together with the popcorn bowl between us, watching the documentary of his Club that I would have thought was kickass even if it wasn’t about Chaos.

This Rebel chick had some serious chops as a filmmaker.

I couldn’t say some of it wasn’t scary, it was.

I could say I loved that Hugger was so open about it, not hiding anything, but also that the Club had made it to the other side.

Oh, and Dutch’s dad was just as amazing as he was, and that wasn’t just his looks. The man had a beautiful smile and clearly loved his wife, kids and brothers, something that made me sad, but I was glad he’d created two sons to carry on that goodness before he was lost to the world.

When the movie was over, it was late, and after a couple of lip brushes and some squeezes, Hugger sent me to my bed.

It was on the tip of my tongue to offer for him to come with me. Not jumping too far too fast, but he could sleep over the covers, me under them, and he’d get better rest.

I didn’t offer because, after Eskimo kisses and footsie and popcorn, and the brutal honesty he shared so openly with that documentary, I didn’t need the temptation.

So I went to bed alone without even a mini make out session to see me through.

It sucked.

But honestly, all that Hugger was giving told me he was going to be worth the wait.

12

AIR MATTRESS

Diana

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