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“I want nothing more.” He pinches a nipple. “But did you think I didn’t notice that you changed the subject?”
My coy smile elicits a laugh from him, and one of his hands grips my hip.
I playfully buck against the ridge of his hardening cock. “Well, what do you want to do? Talk or fuck?”
“Fuck now. Talk later.”
24
TOM
“What’s the plan?” I shut the back door of the new SUV with all of Leighton’s luggage packed in there. “Are we driving through to Toronto today?”
We ended up staying an extra day in Davenport. Harvey, the owner of the auto repair shop, promised us he’d get the part yesterday and foolishly, or more like selfishly, we decided to wait for the part. We had the time to spare and spent the day enjoying each other’s company…in bed.
Turns out, today, Harvey’s saying the same thing. He’ll have the part later today. By the time midday rolls around and there is still no word on the part, we decide to leave. Luckily, Gus already secured us another vehicle yesterday.
Now it’s time to decide whether we drive through to Toronto or stop in Chicago. Right now, I’m feeling better about heading home after Leighton and I agreed to see each other after this road trip.
Leighton studies me from where she stands only a few feet away in sand-colored linen shorts and a pink, flowy tank top. The soft, loose material makes her seem fresh and more easygoing than I’m used to. But no less gorgeous and far too put together for a guy like me.
I wait for her to answer me. We could be in Toronto in the early hours of tomorrow morning or we could take a bit more time. If I get a vote, I say let’s go with the latter. Although I’ve got a deadline for reaching Toronto in time for Matt’s restaurant opening, after two nights and a day with Leighton, I’m not eager to get there today.
It’s funny how at the start of this drive, all I wanted was to pass the time and help Gus. Then, I wanted the days to fly by rather than drag, and now I wish time would stop.
To prompt a response from her, I offer up, “We can get to Toronto today. It’ll be a longer day at around eleven hours without stops. Gus won’t like it, but at least it’s only one day of driving over ACE’s daily on-the-road limit. We could get there by…” I glance down at my phone and do the mental calculations. “It’d be late, after one in the morning, probably later depending on how many stops we make.”
Her hair flares out behind her as she spins on a heel and heads for the front of the car. I’m quick to do the same, both of us hopping into the front seat in unison.
She fastens her seat belt. “I was thinking we stick to the original plan. Head to Chicago.” Though it’s meant to be a statement, she makes it sound like a question.
Her cheeks flush and she avoids my gaze, dipping her eyes to her lap. I chuckle at how awkward she is in saying—without saying—that like me, she wants to spend more time together.
I put her at ease and grab her hand. “I’m on board with the plan. In fact, I’m not against anything that lets me spend more time with you.”
She whips her head up, and an understanding passes between us. Our time together is dwindling. Now that we’ve had each other, and while we’ve agreed to no end, neither of us are eager to get home where real life will make other demands on our time and attention.
“Don’t use your charm on me.”
I want to protest and insist what I said was all true, no charm or flirting intended, but her phone rings.
“Oh, it’s Everly. I’ve got to take this.” She hits the screen and puts the phone to her ear.
The first hour passes by fairly quickly. I touch base with Gus to give him an update on our itinerary, the car, and for him to let me know nothing has changed where Brent is concerned. I then call Claire to ask how I can help with her wedding planning and to get hints as to how we can spend a day celebrating her before the big day.
In turn, Leighton texts with Fallon, sharing some comments about me from her friend, before she does some work on her phone.
At some point, halfway through the drive, she giggles at her screen before turning to me. “Would you believe a stupid photo of your plate of French fries is one of my more popular posts this week?”
“Yes. I would. Why do you sound so surprised? You’re the weirdo here. Everyone loves French fries.” Curiosity piqued, I lean over with my eyes still on the road. “What did you post, and how did you get it past your mother and her people?”
She slaps the phone, face down, on her lap. “Um, I didn’t post to that account.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got two accounts. One my parents are aware of and they get to basically approve anything I put on there. It’s in my name.”
She pauses and releases a long breath, and I wonder if she’s changed her mind and isn’t going to say anymore.
