Page 15 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

“I have the second season ofDaredevilon my DVR, if you’re interested,” Georgia offers.

“Oh, really?” Loïc looks to Georgia. “I’ve actually been wanting to see that, but I haven’t had time.”

“Yeah, Fabio Fuckface wanted me to save it for him. We watched the first season on Netflix over the summer, and we were going to watch season two when he came up.” She rolls her eyes.

“Language, Georgia,” Mom says.

“Oh, Mom, all the classy chicks say fuck now. It’s considered proper. You should try it.”

Mom laughs. “I highly doubt that.”

“Say it, Mom!” Georgia urges.

“No, I’m not going to.”

“Say it. All the cool kids are doing it. Aren’t you all trapeze yoga chill now?” Georgia quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s acroyoga. And, honey, I’ve been around a lot longer than you, so your peer pressure has no effect on me.”

“Say it! Say it! Say it! Say it!” Georgia and I chant repeatedly, clapping our hands.

My mom shakes her head in laughter.

Mom raises her hands in surrender, and we stop cheering. “All right, all right. Goodness. Fuck, girls, let’s go. We have some fucking shopping to do.”

I cover my mouth with my hands as I laugh loudly. Georgia looks at my mom like she has recently grown a second head.

“Um, on second thought, please don’t ever say fuck in my presence again, Mom. That’s just”—she shakes her head in disgust—“not okay. Not. Okay.”

“Why the fuck not, George? I’m a fucking chill yoga mom.”

Georgia stands abruptly. “Stop it! Just stop it! Not okay!” She plugs her ears, singing, “La-la, la-la, la-la, la-la,” on her way off of the balcony.

My mom and I break out in a fit of giggles.

Finally, Mom says in almost a whisper, “Be careful what you ask for.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Mom. You’re plenty cool enough. No need for you to drop the F-bomb. Really.”

“All right, if you say so. I just want to make my girls happy,” she states in an overly joyful voice. She stands, grabs the pitcher and glasses from the table, and walks inside.

My dad stands and follows.

“You can come along while we shop, if you want. I feel bad about dragging you all the way to Cali just to leave you alone to watch TV,” I say to Loïc.

“No, thanks, babe. I’m good here.”

“What? You don’t want to go shopping?” I ask sarcastically.

“Don’t forget that I know what it’s like to go shopping with you. I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like to go with three Wright women.” He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

I can’t help but laugh because I’m sure it would be a nightmare for any man. “I don’t blame you.” Closing the distance between us, I pull his mouth into a kiss. “I love you,” I say, our mouths a breath apart. “Thank you for coming out here with me. I’m sure the whole meet-the-family thing isn’t easy for you, but it makes me happy. So, thank you.”

“Nothing about dating you is easy for me, London. It’s all out of my comfort zone, but I’d face more than a few internal demons to be with you.” His hand rises, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, before the tips of his fingers slide down the skin of my cheek, causing a torrent of goose bumps to pebble my arms.

My lips find his again as an innate desire to be joined with him takes over. Warmth invades my body as his tongue moves in time with mine, creating an intimate dance made solely for the two of us. Without breaking our connection, I leave my chair and push Loïc back into his, pressing the palms of my hands against his firm chest. I place one of my legs on either side of his thighs and straddle him.

His fingers grasp at my back, kneading my skin, as he takes the kiss deeper. An involuntary groan leaves my mouth, followed by one from Loïc. His desire surges for me, hard beneath his pants, as I grind against him. He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling me even closer to the point where I don’t know where I end and he begins. We’re a heated mess of tongues, lips, and skin, frantically kissing to the melody of our moans of desire. It’s the sweetest song I know. Nothing is more enrapturing than the heady hum of Loïc and me on the verge of a frenzy.

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