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“I fucking love it.”
Her throat felt tight like she’d been socked in the windpipe. “I’m accepting applications.”
“Is there any way I can influence the decision?”
She skated up to him; she stood on her toe stoppers and pressed into him. “You could kiss me.”
He folded around her, rested his forehead on hers, his hands on her butt. “Too easy. Anyone could do that.”
“I don’t want anyone.”
“You don’t?”
The wonder in his tone made her smile and her eyes water. “How do you feel about that?”
He put his hands under her thighs and lifted her, any second now and they’d be tangled on the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held her breath. They stayed upright. Pat Benatar sang Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Ant kissed her with a softness and a sureness that jammed up her heart and opened her soul.
That’s how he felt about it.
15: Holding the Star
Ant eased Dan’s Valiant into a space on Bondi Prom. He almost sideswiped the next car because he caught a glimpse of Bree’s bare thigh as her dress lifted when she turned to unbuckle her seat belt. That’s what she did to him. Made his brain all squishy and malleable, and his normal reaction times subject to sudden stop work meetings. He’d never felt so awake, so grateful to find someone who could open the world up for him just by sitting next to him. And when she touched him—no monster wave ride, no big market win was more thrilling.
“There’s so many of them. I’m going to get confused,” she said.
“Seven, plus us. Remember Fluke is the ranga, Dan is the charismatic one, Alex is the stunner, and Scott is the sharp dresser. Start there and everything else will fall into place.”
She laughed. “Hopefully easier and quicker than we did.”
He turned off the ignition. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
She aimed a poke at him but he dodged it. “Nice try, Stickyfoot. I can hardly wait for the grovelling to begin.”
“I could’ve kept this a secret from you. Done a Kitty Caruso and you’d never have known about the bet.”
She reached for his hand. “You only think you can keep things from me. You’re n
ot that bright, babe.”
“Really, doll? Why don’t we lay a wager?”
She dropped his hand and swivelled to face him. “I’ll bet you can’t get through lunch without thinking about what we did in the shower this morning.”
Ant groaned. He’d nearly run a red on the way here thinking about it. There’s no way he could win that bet. “What do I get if I win?”
She licked her lips. “Another skating lesson.”
“Will you wear the Kitty skirt with the bite me pants and the fishnets?”
She gave him a cold-eyed stare. “If you’re very good.”
“You’re on. I’ll make it through lunch, even the grovelling part where I have to humble myself by admitting to your superiority without thinking of what you did with that loofah.”
There’s no way that would happen. The image of her wet and slippery with soap, glowing with energy was on auto–repeat in his head. He’d counted her bruises and lavished attention on every one of them. They were well water logged and satisfied by the time the hot water ran out.
He stuck out his hand. She took it and they shook, then he turned their joined hands so he could bring her palm to his lips and he bit gently into the flesh of her thumb.
She’d body blocked him and jammed up his comfortable life. He was utterly whipped by her and he didn’t care who knew it.
