Page 70 of Gone for You

“Probably do,” I tease.

Those beautiful blue eyes roll.

She points at me and I shrug. “I don’t give a shit.”

“That’s probably what it smells like,” she says, voice still muffled.

I bark out a laugh and push up and roll to the side. A shame, yes, but it must be done. Today is Lily’s wedding. Which means she has a busy day of getting even more gorgeous ahead of her and I have a few things to take care of. If I don’t get out of this bed now, I’ll just want to lay in bed all day and do… well, definitely not nothing.

With one last squeeze, I release her and stand up.

“Do you have time for breakfast?”

Liv glances at the clock on my nightstand. “Yeah, I have almost two hours before I have to meet everyone to get all beautified.”

Two hours. That’s plenty of time for… a lot. I smirk and she shakes her head, laughing. “Don’t even think about it.”

“It’s already thinking about it,” I tell her, looking down at the tent in my boxers.

“No.”

“No?” I feel like she’s challenging me, pushing to see how far I’d go but instead I just say, “Okay.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to see if I’m bluffing?”

I lift my shoulders, shrugging like I don’t care. I wasn’t bluffing but I’m curious what she’d do with our time if I was.

“Grr,” she growls, jumping out of bed and into my arms.

I laugh, kiss her, not giving a shit about her morning breath – which she does have, by the way – and give her something to think about the rest of the day. This last week, having her here has been amazing. But I can feel her getting antsy. See the way she’s noticing how simple it is between us. How uncomplicated and perfect. It makes her nervous, to be excited to see me when I get home from working at the bar. To feel any sort of attachment. When we were apart, it seemed easier for her to forget how good it is between us. That it’s okay to give in to your feelings for someone else when it’s safe and amazing and once-in-a-lifetime.

Eventually, I’ll get there. I’ve been trying too hard the last week. Pushing too much for her to get on the same level as me. And the bitch of it is, I know I need to back off but I can’t. She’s given me a taste of what our future could be like, if she’d just let it happen. I know it’s what she wants but I’m not a dick and if I’ve learned anything about myself over the time we’ve spent getting to know each other, talking about everything under the sun, it’s that when it comes to her, I have an extreme level of patience. Because anything worth having in your life forever is worth the wait.

Setting her back on her feet, I rub my nose down her temple all the way to her jaw and whisper in her ear, “You were right about your breath.”

She guffaws and shoves me away from her. “Gah! You’re such a jerk!” she’s laughing as she says it. I smack her ass before walking out of my bedroom, smile on my face. No doubt, she was expecting me to say something sweet, something profound that would change the course. But the timing isn’t right for it. Soon, though. I have faith. Until then, I’ll back off. But only a little.

I make us some fried eggs and toast while she showers. When she comes into the kitchen, hair still wet and hanging over her shoulders, my breath damn near catches. The sunlight shining into the kitchen drifts over her skin, giving off a dewy glow. Her face is free of makeup, and somehow her golden eyes stand out even more.

Her beauty is so overwhelming that I have to lean back against the counter.

“Coffee?” my voice comes out gruff.

“Duh.” She grabs her creamer out of the fridge and moves over to the coffee maker, lifts the handle and drops in a fresh pod.

Her nails tap against the counter as she waits for the coffee to finish brewing and I hear the bread pop from the toaster.

We move around like we’ve done it a million times before. She slides the butter dish my way and I begin slathering butter on the toast and placing it on our plates.

She grabs her own plate and cup, sits at the table and I do the same but I notice she’s fidgety. And it occurs to me what has her so anxious.

The day ahead of her.

A wedding. Her greatest fear. Well, aside from spiders. Nothing freaks her out more than those little eight-legged creatures.

Deciding not to bring up the wedding, I switch up tactics. Instead of pushing for her to stay longer, I ask, “You ready to get rid of me?”

“What?” She almost drops her fork.

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