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“Baby, come here.”
Her eyes flicked up at me, and she silent for a few seconds before putting on a light, teasing voice for me.
“I’m doing work stuff, babe.”
“Fuck work. Come here,” I grinned, holding my arm out to her.
I stifled a laugh as she stole an actual eye roll before putting her phone down, resuming a smile and sidling up to me. As I pulled her sexy legs onto my lap, she wrapped her arms around my neck, twisting her body to face me and away from the driver.
I ignored her cocked eyebrow and the way she impatiently mouthed what? Instead, I enjoyed the fake giggle she managed as I stroked the back of her calves and said something about her hair smelling good.
Considering I didn’t get to touch this body at home anymore – considering how she used my own body as she wished in public – I was going to take my sweet damned time here. Hell, I was going to get fucking high off the scent of that coconut shampoo. Maybe I already was, considering I was suddenly imagining Evie lounging next to me on a beach, basking in the sun in a little white bikini.
“We need a vacation,” I smirked, buying more time with her on my lap.
“Mm-hm. The second your season is over, babe. We’ll go.”
“Where do you want to go?”
Away from you, was what she conveyed with that big, inaudible sigh that made her shoulders slump. Still hanging onto my neck, she glanced back at her phone on the seat. I couldn’t help but break into a huge grin because apparently insolent Evie was also a turn-on. When she turned back to me, she had her game face back.
“Oh, I don’t know. Anywhere at all as long as I’m with you,” she said with a saccharine sweetness meant to irritate me. It somewhat worked.
“Name a city,” I said. “London? Paris? Milan?”
“No. I need a beach. It’s already been too long since I’ve been in the ocean,” she said, almost accusingly, as if I’d been keeping her from it myself.
“What, you a water baby like me?” I asked as she avoided my eye, gazing longingly out the back window like she preferred to get out in the middle of traffic than sit on my lap.
“Please. I’m more of a water baby than you,” she mumbled.
“Doubt that. I was born and raised in Florida. What do you got, Massachusetts girl?”
Just as I hoped, that set something off. I tried not to laugh as Evie pinned a brief but hot, incredulous stare on me.
“For your information, there are lots of beautiful and famous beaches in New England,” she started sharply, clearly about to school me. I was all for it. I’d set her up for it because as much as I enjoyed the sweet, breathy voice she used with me in public, I missed the sound of her real one talking about real things. “Palm trees are not a requirement in order to be considered a beach. Ever heard of Cape Cod? Martha’s Vineyard? Good Harbor Beach?”
“I’ve definitely never heard of the last one. That sounds like someone got tired while naming beaches.”
She snorted but caught herself.
“Stop. Don’t be rude,” she said tartly. “That was my beach growing up, and it’s beautif
ul.”
“Probably still half as good as the worst beach in Florida.”
“There was white sand. Lighthouses. Nice people,” Evie seethed adorably. “It’s even pretty in the winter. I hitchhiked at least once a week to get there.”
“Hitchhiked? How old were you?”
“When I first started? Thirteen, fourteen.”
I must’ve looked fucking horrified because she slid her eyes back to me and actually laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. Must’ve been a good beach,” I remarked.
