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“They sound like great people.” I lean in and slowly kiss her lips, enjoying her soft whimper of approval while at the same time being careful not to go too far. We may not be back home, but who knows what photographers are hanging out around here.
She turns sideways in her seat and clasps my hands. They remain cold but no longer show signs of shaking. “I’m glad you think they sound like good people.”
“Why?”
“They’ve invited us over for dinner tonight.” Her eyes dance as she smirks at me.
This is the Harbor I know and love. My stomach drops. Dude, it’s a little soon for the L word to keep popping up. You were doing that enough while having sex with her. She’s going to run if you drop down to one knee and propose after a few days.
I arch an eyebrow. “Are they swingers?” Continuing to lighten the mood seems like the best course of action.
“Not that I’m aware of.” She laughs as the remaining tension eases from her body. “But I can ask if you’d like.”
“I don’t think so.” I squeeze her hand and raise it to my lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I don’t share what’s mine, and you’re mine.”
“I thought we were waiting to see if we were compatible.” The adoration in her eyes has to match my own because this feels right. Nothing has ever felt this right before.
“We’re compatible, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are.” She straightens as if she senses we’re about to cross a line in public that neither of us is comfortable with. At least at a coffee shop. “What exactly did Connor say about the article?” Her grin turns sinister.
“You’re rotten.” I settle back into my seat.
“I actually can’t wait until we tell him about us so I can see his head spin around.”
“God, I….” I snap my mouth shut and swallow the words that keep wanting to spill out from my lips and nod at the cups of coffee in front of me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want after work, so I got you a caramel Frappuccino with some kind of sprinkles, a white chocolate hot cocoa, and a salted caramel cold coffee.”
“You got me my favorite three drinks.” She frowns. “How did you guess? Did Layla tell you?”
“Babe, I didn’t guess, and no one told me. I know what you like. Just because I didn’t put the moves on you doesn’t mean I don’t know everything about you. You should see the journal I have at home of all your favorite things. It’s thick and even has a lock of your hair in it. It’s quite romantic if you like the stalkerish vibe.”
“You do not.” She smacks my chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m teasing. I don’t have a lock of your hair or a journal.” I sober and thread my fingers into her hair, drawing her face to mine. “I memorized everything from your favorite coffee to the type of jeans you wear. Mid-rise, boot cut.”
“God,” she sighs. “You’re so fucking sexy. I want to–”
I claim her mouth and forget my earlier promise to keep things PG, or at least PG-13, and delve headfirst into rated R.
Her legs cradle one of mine until every inch of her heat surrounds me, and I groan in frustration. When she sits back, her gorgeous blue eyes are filled with desire as she bites down on her plump bottom lip. “We have three hours until we need to be at my boss’s house.”
“Perfect.” I grab her hand and pull her upright. “How far is it to your place?”
“Three blocks.” She wrinkles her nose. “But if we’re driving, it’ll take 20 minutes to find a parking spot near my building.”
“I don’t have 20 minutes.” I thread my fingers through hers. “Let’s walk, and you can tell me all the filthy things you want to do to me when we get there.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Harbor
Where did this man come from? And how did I get lucky enough to get him? Those two questions run through a loop in my brain as we walk toward my condo. I expected him to be upset by the news article at the very least. And at the worst, I anticipated he’d believe what he read and end things. My ex-boyfriend wouldn’t have blinked as he dumped me after believing the worst.
Not Cole. He’s strolling down the street with his arm around my shoulders, telling me about work.
“We had a call last night at the Gibson’s place.”
“Again?” I frown and snuggle closer to his chest as we walk in step while dodging a woman pushing a stroller with one hand and holding her phone in the other. She struggles to keep the stroller in line as she chats to whomever is on the other side of the line. “It’s barely been a month since Layla attempted that cat rescue.”
