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Watching the crystal letters calmly circle around his solid frame causes me to thoughtlessly smirk.
Appreciate the fact I can always rely on their shades to soothe me.
Protect me.
“Wouldn’t uh…” he clears his throat, red swiftly replaced by bright pink, “wouldn’t fucking dream of it, Wahl.”
“Good because thatdream,” my best friend’s fingers dig noticeably deeper into the man’s peachy flesh, “would quickly become a nightmare.” Slater leans his bronze face a little closer to Reynold’s ear and lowers his volume. “The type of nightmare that you wouldn’t wake up forweeksfrom.”
Sounds menacing.
And given the jaggedness of his letters along with the deeper blue, it looks it too.
His hold increases once more at the same time he warmly beams, “Copy that?”
Reynolds swings his gray gaze around to meet Slater’s blue. “Copy that.”
“Good!” The condescending shoulder pat is used to be the exit he undoubtedly needed to take. As soon as the door shuts with the latest pain in my ass on the other side, my best friend’s attention rolls back to me. “Now,you…” he points prior to rotating his finger to curl inward, “come here to me, Angel Cake.”
Even if I wanted to resist the one and only Slater Wahl, I couldn’t.
Between the no need for underwear smile and blue eyes that seem to sparkle like stars in the night sky, it’s impossible.
I mean physically, mentally, and emotionallyimpossible.
The man is basically walking serotonin with a six pack and southern drawl.
We should all simply be thankful that I’ve managed to remember more than just my own name for the duration of our friendship.
Our very long, verymagicalfriendship.
I’ve never been this close to another person in my entire life.
Not even the ones that share DNA with me.
Hopping my neon red, fashionably oversized business suit cloaked frame out of my seat and into his hold is swiftly done. While both of my arms curl adoringly around his charcoal polo covered torso, he braces one hand on the small of my back and the other on the nape of my neck. The initial squeeze he executes is always the same. It’s protectively tight, almost as if by holding me in the palms of his hands every fear, every worry, every ounce of uneasiness is obliterated. As if having just the ability to touch me, pacifies a piece of him nothing else can. Nuzzling my nose against his chest prompts a secondary squeeze that’s attached to a sigh of relief so heavy it shakes the ground beneath our feet. Low grumbles of gratitude vibrate both our figures pushing me to press myself tighter into him. Squeeze my eyes shut and steal an extra inhale of his sweet, woodsy scent.
Mmm.
Love his smell even more than that of fresh baked treats coming out of the oven.
Slater cranes his neck forward to softly purr beside my ear, “You have any idea how much I missed you, Angel Cake?”
Bright specks of blue dance around my darkened vision, lighting the place up like its first thing Christmas morning. “Less than I missed you.”
Amused grunts precede him pulling back.
Meeting my gaze.
Offering me a quirked eyebrow that’s attached to a crooked grin. “Is that right?”
“Well, I don’t think it’swrong.”
My teasing tone has him taking a small bite out of his bottom lip, something I secretly – very secretly – wish I could do. “And here I thought you were the brains of this operation.”
“I’mclearlythe brawns.” Giggles are accompanied by wiggles used to free me from his grasp. “Don’t forget it’smewho can bench press a pound of strawberries with the best of them.” Laughter escapes him as his eyes follow me over to where I’m flopping back down into my chair. “You got something for me?”
“Depends.” His tongue slowly swipes his thin lips. “You got somethin’ for me?”
