Page 41 of Headstrong Like Us
He grins. “Technically, it’ll be Anacapri.”
“Still the Island of Capri,” I combat.
“Fair enough.” His lip inches up even higher, and I wish you could see the way he’s staring at me. With utter, eviscerating love that deserves fanfare and centerfolds and documentaries just focusing on that one look.
And God, the way he makes me feel.
My eyes burn with emotion, and I swallow a knot in my throat. “Jack still needs to know if we want the wedding to be filmed for the docuseries.”
Farrow sucks in a breath, looking indecisive. “You want to?”
“I don’t mind sharing our wedding with the world, man. I’m comfortable being in the spotlight. And there’s ahighlikelihood at least one paparazzi squirms in and captures something anyway, and with the docuseries, we’ll be able to share our footage. Which is better than grainy video clips from telephoto lenses.”
As soon as tourists snap pics of my family and us in Italy, paparazzi will flock to the area like locusts. The benefit of Capri is the amount of time it’ll take media to reach the island. Right now, most fans think we’re returning to Greece, and Kinney has been “liking” those speculation tweets, so she’s helping throw off the scent.
He’s still hesitant. It’s not like he grew up imagining being married tome.The son of an infamous sex addict and alcoholic, a celebrity who’s wrenched him into a life ofzeroprivacy.
“If you’d rather this be private for us, I totally get that too, Farrow. There’s no pressure.”
He nods. “Let me think about it.” He steals the remote and pressesplay.And then leans back beside me. I have a hard time averting my eyes off him, okay?
But I succeed.
“You can keep staring, wolf scout. I already know you think I’m hot.”
I blink. I’m taking my win, however short. And I let out a rough breath. “I don’t think it. Never even said it, and I have no clue where you’re getting that idea from.”
Farrow rests a hand on my knee. His large palm skates down my thigh towards my crotch.Jesus Christ. My body responds, stirring. Heating.
Wanting.
Aching.
Pleading.
I breathe through my nose. Doing my best not to give himfuck meeyes. I’m not looking at him, or speaking. But I do shift back, somewhat.
I’m about to finally reply with something sarcastic, but I turn and my gaze is on his lips.
His grin onlyexplodes.
“Fuck off,” I say playfully, pushing his hand away.
Farrow laughs, and when he passes me another envelope, he winces. “Shit.” He shakes out his hand.
“What happened?”
“Paper cut.”
“You need a Band-Aid?” I stand up to find him one, but Farrow tugs me down by my waistband.
My ass hits the sofa cushion.
“Slow down, wolf scout. Don’t open your survival kit for me.” He hates being coddled as much as I do.
“I didn’t even crack it open.”
“Good.” He sucks his stinging finger, his lip curving.
