Page 65 of No Place Like You

“But you said it wasn’t ‘just sex’ for you,” she continues, her chest rising and falling against mine. “And I feel like it wouldn’t be ‘just sex’ formethis time around. And I don’t think it would be a good idea to dothatwhen…”

“Okay,” I agree, my hand moving to her stomach now, where it trails along the bumpy ridges of her ribcage. She draws in a sharp intake of breath.

“Yeah?” A soft sigh ends her one-worded question, making her words lack the resolve they should have. I thumb her nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and she grinds her hips into me.

“Yes. Absolutely.” I give a light pinch at the same time she dips her tongue in my mouth, taking a long, silky sweep. She withdraws, nibbling on my lip, and my growing erection presses into the soft space between her legs.

“Yeah,” she adds. “So…it would probably be a smart thing to stop.”

“Probably.”

“In fact, I should probably just take a cold shower.”

I stop kissing her. “Is that an invitation?”

She laughs, her shoulders bouncing as she nuzzles her face into my shoulder. “I swear, it’s like telling a toddler he can’t have any candy.”

I shrug and smirk. “I mean, I need a shower anyway, and wewouldbe saving water,” I comment, trying my best to appear indifferent.

“Dexter,” she whines, pressing a gentle, assuaging kiss on my cheek.

I sigh. “Okay,” I answer with a soft, teasing pinch to her waist. “Go shower. I’ll go grab some dinner.”

She pouts a little and pushes her palms into my stomach. I can tell she feels bad about the situation we’ve just lodged ourselves into. One that feels sort of like an impasse or even a crossroads where no matter what we choose, consequences will be the death of us.

“It’s fine, Luce,” I assure her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Really.”

“We’re good?” she asks.

I place a small peck to the corner of her mouth. “Of course.”

30

Lucy

“Would a riesling work?”

Dexter looks up at me over the rack of wine bottles dividing up between aisles. “We can get both the riesling and the chardonnay if you want. We can never have too much wine.”

I beam at him, and he smiles back. We both turn to walk to the end of the aisle, where we meet.

“You know,” I say softly, all smiles and bliss. “This is a very coupley thing we’re doing here.”

He raises his brows, amused. “Is it now?”

“Accepting an invite to your sister’s apartment for dinner with her boyfriend while you volunteered to bring the wine?” I ask, our smiles now matching. “Very coupley.”

He smirks. “She’s just happy she finally has enough energy to cook an entire meal,” he explains. “And her gnocchi is honestly to die for.”

“I’m definitely not complaining,” I say, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “Iguess…”

“What?” he asks gently, a small dip furrowing between his brows.

I shake my head. “I can’t wait.”

This isn’t the first coupley thing we’ve done together. Late-night milkshake runs at The Lunch Car, movie nights at home under a shared blanket, heavy make out sessions on the couch. In fact, most of our time spent together has been doing very coupley things. But this…It feels like more. Like us playing the role of boyfriend and girlfriend in front of other people, no matter that we haven’t officially assigned each other such titles, makes it that much more coupley.

We grab our two bottles, white wine like Janet asked, and walk the remaining fifteen blocks to Janet and Charles’s apartment.

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