Page 78 of That's Too Pucking Bad

I nod, biting my lip, watching as he opens the passenger door and steps closer again. He leans in, buckling my seat belt with a care I didn’t know he was capable of. His fingers brush my arm, and when he pulls back, he finally removes his mask. His face is flushed, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He looks wrecked, and it does something to me.

“Can we go to your house instead?” I ask, my voice a little shaky but steady enough to make him stop.

His brows lift. “You want to?” His tone is incredulous, like he wasn’t expecting that.

Something inside me twists— nerves, boldness, I don’t know— but I lean forward and kiss him. Hard. He freezes for half a second before his hands find my waist, squeezing gently. His lips are softer now, letting me take control. When I pull back, his eyes are locked on me, blazing.

“Fucking hell, Remy,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Kiss me more often.”

My cheeks burn, and I glance down at my lap. I don’t trust myself to say anything. He doesn’t push, just takes my hand. His fingers are warm, strong, and I can’t look away from them as he turns on the engine.

Music floods the car, soft at first, but unmistakable. Taylor Swift’sFolklore.

I blink, staring at him. “What is this?”

“You like her music,” he says, eyes on the road. His voice is steady, almost nonchalant. “And I wanted to understand something you liked.”

My chest tightens in a way that isn’t unpleasant. I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “You— wait. You listened toFolklore?”

“Not just listened,” he says, glancing at me briefly, smirking. “I’ve got opinions.”

“Opinions?” I laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it. “Like what?”

“That one about the cardigan? It’s... okay.”

I gape at him. “Okay? Zane, that’s iconic.”

He shrugs, lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “Relax, baby. I’m still learning.”

Baby. The word hits me harder than it should, and I’m left staring at him like an idiot while the music plays on. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this— light, giddy, completely disarmed, free.

We pull up to his house— mansion, really— and I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes me. It’s massive, all sleek lines and glowing lights, set against the backdrop of the night.

“You live here?” My voice sounds small, awed.

He cuts the engine and leans back, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“That’s one word for it,” I mutter, unbuckling my seat belt. He’s already out, coming around to open my door. His hand is outstretched, and I take it, letting him guide me inside.

The interior is even more ridiculous— marble floors, soaring ceilings, and a staircase that looks like it belongs in a movie.

“You’re richrich,” I say before I can stop myself.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “You’re just figuring that out?”

I swat at his arm, and he catches my hand, pulling me closer. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His room is huge, all dark wood and soft lighting, with windows that look out over the lake. But it’s the bathroom that makes my jaw drop. The bathtub alone is the size of a small pool, and everything gleams like it’s never been touched.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, turning in a slow circle.

He watches me, something softening in his expression. “You like it?”

“I mean this is insane,” I admit, running my fingers over the edge of the sink. Then I notice the shelf lined with products— familiar products. My products.

I whirl around, staring at him. “What the hell?”

He looks sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. “I saw them at your place. Thought you might stay over some time.”

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