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He drops his arm to my waist and pulls me closer. “Good,” he murmurs. “As long as you know that.”
“Me? You’re the one who needs to know it, shouting ‘knickers’ all over the place!”
His grin turns playful. “Watch it or I’ll have all these girls wanting to drop their knickers for me.”
I roll my eyes. “That ego.” I step from his arms and walk along the pier.
I rest my forearms against the railing and close my eyes against the gentle breeze. It’s noisy from the restaurant just behind us, but the sound of the wind drowns most of it out into a dull buzz.
My lips curve into the light chill, and I tilt my head back slightly. My hair teases around my cheeks, and I sigh happily.
Warmth covers my back, and two elbows rest alongside mine. Tyler’s mouth brushes along my cheek.
“You’re beautiful.” His words are a whisper but seem like a scream to me.
I run my fingers down his arm to where he’s holding his camera. Without saying a word, he tilts it so I can see the screen and brings up his last pictures. They’re of me leaning here, looking out at the water.
He rests his chin on my shoulder. “See? Beautiful. I could watch you do nothing all day.”
My lips twitch. “That would get boring after a while.”
“No.” His mouth touches my jaw. “Believe me. It’s not boring at all. I watch you even when you think I’m not. I can’t help myself. I have to know the exact curve of your jaw, the flutter of your eyelashes, the shape of your lips, the shade of your eyes. I have to know and I have to remember it, because when you’re not there, the memory is all I have.”
I lift my arm and curve my fingers around his neck from the front. “At least the memory can’t talk back.”
“Baby girl, the memories of you have nothing on the real thing.”
My heart pounds with his words. The honesty in them is overwhelming—and too much. Way too much.
“Who knew a sex addict could be so romantic?”
“And who knew a love addict would be the one to break the moment?” he teases right back, his chest vibrating with laughter.
I look back at him with a smile. “Come on, crazy stalker Brit. I need food.”
“Worked up an appetite, have you?” He tucks his camera back inside his bag.
“Yeah. Pulling all that plastic off those chairs was hard work, you know?”
He smacks my butt and grabs my hand right after. “Bitch.”
I grin.
“This is such a covert mission. I seriously feel like we’re back in high school.”
“Shut up and just do it, okay?”
“I’m not the one doing anything!” Dayton gives me a firm look and walks into the store.
I slink down in the seat of the car and nibble my thumbnail. My eyes focus on the door like a predator stalking its prey. My foot is tapping repeatedly against the floor.
I mean, hell. She’s right. This is so fucking high school.
She walks out of the store, the white, plastic bag swinging from her hand, and gets into my car. She dumps the bag in my lap. “This is irrational, even for you.”
“Oh, thanks. I just… I feel odd.” I put the bag—and the box inside—into the pocket in my door. “And it’s no odder than when you had to get me one because I thought Gary Coombe came when we dry humped.”
“You were wearing pants!”
