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Fuck, no. It’s killing me, Bambi.
I sigh and shake my head.
I’ll buy every lap dance so no one else gets their hands on you. I’ll do your pole dances for you. I can shake my ass real good.
I grin as I picture Laz on the pole at the club.
Since when am I your Mia?
Since you became the only thing I care about.
I feel a jolt as I realize I’m smiling, and it’s because of Laz. I can’t remember the last time anyone else made me forget about my worries for a while.
Everything’s getting so complicated, I type back.
No shit. But one thing’s very simple.
What’s that?
I care about you, Bambi.
I hug my phone to my chest. I care about him, too. Maybe I’m going to hell, but all I want is some peace and quiet, and Laz.
Just me and Laz, always. Am I crazy, or would that be perfect?
* * *
“Knock, knock.”
I look up from my homework to see Laz filling my doorway, wearing a pair of jeans so tight that they would make an angel blush. I wonder if it hurts to get a hard-on in those, or if it aches in a good way. Sometimes when I get turned on in tight jeans I purposefully squeeze my thighs together and it feels amazing.
“Your Mom’s gone out,” he tells me with a wicked smile.
I roll my pen absent-mindedly along my lips. Is this when it happens? Are we going to have sex in my bed while Mom is out? I don’t think I’ll be able to relax if I’m listening for her car the whole time. Then again, Laz has a habit of blocking out my awareness of everything but him when we’re together.
But instead of pulling off his T-shirt, he digs his phone out of his back pocket as he strolls toward me. “It’s time for some revenge, Bambi.”
I stare at his chest, kind of wishing he’d take off his shirt. “Hm? Sorry, what?”
Get your mind off his dick.
“Revenge,” Laz says again. He cups my cheek and plays his thumb over my lips. “Ruin her party.”
I suck in an alarmed breath. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. She scheduled it on the anniversary of your dad’s death knowing it would upset you. If you don’t wreck it, I will. But it’s easier if you help me.”
“Why?”
“Because my Giulia Bianchi impression isn’t up to much.”
He taps his phone a few times and I suddenly realize what he intends for us to do. We couldn’t.
Weshouldn’t.
That’s just plain wicked.
A thrill goes through me.
