Page 86 of Contingently Yours
I know he means the planning part of it, but I feel a bit slighted. I wonder what it would be like to be married. Cuddling in the morning, driving to work together, and shopping for coffee tables. Chuckling, I shake my head at myself, realizing the image I see is with him, and kick my pants off. God, I have it so bad.
“I’ll get you a wedding planner,” I offer, sliding in under the covers.
“Like a wedding bitch?”
“Language, Lucas,” I scold, sounding like my mother, but it’s too funny to hear him be so unfiltered. “I don’t think that’s what they like to be called, but yeah. Someone to do all the planning so you don’t have to stress about anything.” I raise my arm to wrap it around him, but he burrows into my chest before I even lay it across his back.
“No way. I’d do it myself. They’d screw something up.”
Snorting, I shake my head and rub his back. I guess his future dream wedding is back on. Rolling back, he glances up at me. The next thing I know, a hand is pressed against my face. His fingertips nearly poke me in the eye as he drags his sweaty digits down my face. When I open my eyes, he’s grinning at me like a fool.
“What?” I laugh, my breath catching in my throat. Is he going to tell me I’m the one he pictures in that dream wedding he supposedly doesn’t want?
“You’re in my bed. Like seeing you in my bed.”
It will be my mission in life, henceforward, to get him to loosen up this much without alcohol. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I assure him, “I like being in it.”
When I draw back, his mouth moves in. “Want you,” he murmurs, kissing me. It’s sloppy, and yet it’s still as sweet as he is. His hand moves lower, though, trailing over my cock and giving it a squeeze. “Want you, Andrew.”
Fuuuck. This is payback for every rotten thing I’ve ever done or said in my life.
Capturing his wrist, I bring it to my chest and kiss his knuckles. “Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t put out before the first date.” Or when people are inebriated, but I’m not about to listen to an intoxicated man try to convince me he’s not intoxicated.
“Since when?” He frowns.
Ouch. That was some drunken honesty.
“Since now.”
He tries to be all coy, sliding his fingers from my grip and nudging his hips forward, but I catch his hand again before it passes my belly button, intertwining our fingers. Huffing, he rolls closer, burying his face in my chest.
“You’re mean,” he mumbles against my skin.
Kissing his temple, I agree sympathetically. “I know.”
When he stays still and quiet, I feel my body relax. Maybe the beast has finally decided to hibernate. Gingerly, I slip my fingers from his and wrap my arm around his back to hold him close. Something creeps up on me that feels a lot like gratitude as I hold his warm body in my arms. I get to be here. Get to hold him. Like this.
Smiling, I place a soft kiss on the top of his head, recalling our evening. I still can’t believe I got invited to sit with him and his mom.
I remember how my stomach was in knots as we approached the table, hand in hand. I’ve never met the parents of anyone I’ve been intimate with. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be welcomed into the family tonight.
“Don’t volunteer for anything,” Lucas whispered as we approached her.
He should have elaborated more and sooner. I see now why he takes responsibility for his family so seriously. That woman roped me in without my even realizing it. I ended up with a date to help clean her gutters, paint her fence, and look at her faulty washing machine. I don’t know shit about washing machines other than how to call for a repair. Still, it was nice to be relied upon and trusted. I’ll have to try that out on Loretta sometime and see how it goes.
And the babies? Well, they’re adorable little bundles of giddiness and mischief. Granted, I know it was their wedding day, but I can tell they’re rays of sunshine year-round. I’m gladLucas has had that in his life. They pretty much adopted me. I think it was mostly my dancing skills, but seeing the way their brother smiled at me with his puppy-dog eyes might have had something to do with it, too.
“Ask me now?” Lucas pleads, interrupting my thoughts. I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but I find him looking up at me with a seriousness in his eyes that belies his inebriated state.
“Ask you what?”
“To be your boyfriend.”
He went from wanting to save a horse by riding a cowboy to wanting to watch ‘The Notebook.’ What am I going to do with him? Also, I can’t ask him right now. Not like this! I came up with the perfect date plan while we were at the reception.
I know the man pretends to love granola, but I also discovered he has an affinity for cake. The way he moaned over that slice in Darwin—he did the same thing tonight with the wedding cake. I was going to take him to this wood carving place I’ve seen and then out to my favorite restaurant in Wilmington, which has the best better-than-sex cake that lives up to its name.
“Why don’t we wait until your head is clear?” I suggest tenderly.
