Page 97 of A Very Merry Enemy
I glance at her. Morning light is streaming through the windshield. I think about my mouth on her throat while she touched herself. Loved hearing the way she gasped when I sucked that sensitive spot below her ear.
I shift in my seat, knowing this could get awkward, but go for it anyway.
I reach up and pull down her sun visor. The lights on the small mirror flick on.
“What are you—” She stops midsentence as she catches sight of her reflection.
Her eyes go wide. She leans forward, tilting her head to see her neck better. Her hand flies up, fingers gently touching one of the marks.
“Oh my—” Her voice comes out strangled. She glares at me. “Lucas! What have you done!”
I wince. “Yeah. Whoops.”
“Whoops? This isn’t a whoops! Everyone is going to know.”
“Sorry?”
“Three hickeys? Look how purple they are! Are you a fucking Hoover vacuum?” She’s twisting the visor, trying to see all of them. Her face is bright red, but there’s something else in her eyes, too. Something heated that makes my blood run hotter. “I just told Jake nothing happened!”
“Yeah, I think he knew you were lying.”
“While I have this all over my neck!” She finally looks at me directly, and there’s heat in her gaze along with a dash of annoyance. Or is that awareness? “I was like a kid with chocolate all over her face, insisting she didn’t eat any cookies.”
I can’t help it, and I laugh. The image is too perfect.
“It’s not funny!” But she’s fighting a smile now, her eyes still locked on mine. There’s something electric in the air between us. Something that didn’t get resolved last night.
“It’s hilarious,” I say with a shrug. “So, HoHo. What will you say when people ask who marked you as theirs?”
“You’re impossible.” She touches the mark near her ear, and her cheeks flush darker. Her fingers linger on it, and I remember tasting her skin, enjoying it. “You always did this. Even in high school. Senior year, you gave me a hickey right before school pictures! I had to lie and say it was someone from Valentine that I met at the rodeo!”
“In my defense, I was young and dumb.”
“And the only difference is that now you’re thirty-four.” She’s not really mad, though. I can see it in her eyes and in the way her lips are curving up. It’s also not lost on me that she keeps looking at my mouth.
We turn onto the main road through the farm and pass the line of cars trying to enter the property.
Holiday’s eyes widen even more. “We’re going to get slammed today.”
I turn onto the country road and drive the two miles to her parents’ place.
I smirk, knowing those marks on her neck prove she’s mine.
Except, she’s not yet. Not until she chooses me. And not after drinking half a bottle of bourbon together, either.
“For what it’s worth,” I say, “I’m actually not sorry I did it.”
She turns to look at me. The morning light makes her eyes look impossibly blue. “I know you’re not. That hasn’t changed either.”
I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her too long, I’m going to pull over and kiss her until those marks are everywhere. “I’m not sorry about last night, either.”
“I’m not either.”
The air in the truck feels charged, like last night never really ended, and those secrets did change things. A part of me wishes we were still in that tent.
“Fucking Jollys,” she says, but there’s no heat in it. Just affection and want.
“Your favorite family,” I say, grinning. I ache everywhere for her.
