Page 73 of From Nowhere

Pressing my teeth into my lower lip, I nod several times. “I think you still have game.” I check on Lola’s vicinity and lower my voice. “In fact, I like your gamea lot.”

“Don’t say that. I can do so much better.”

I don’t speak. Ozzy just planted a new garden of possibilities, and with so many inappropriate images in my head, I can’t think of words.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.

Heat crawls up my neck. “You’re being cruel because you can’t deliver, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Good,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to stop thinking about it.”

I step closer, again checking on Lola. “I didn’t even make it home last night,” I murmur so only Ozzy can hear me. “I went straight to my car and touched myself.”

Ozzy blinks several times. Then his gaze inspects the stairway followed by Lola’s room. His lips twist, eyes narrowed, and he steps past me to her doorway. “Lola, it’s time for you to take a bath.”

“No! Bandit just got here.” She plucks the kitten from the pile of stuffed animals on her bed and hugs him.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ozzy says.

“Dad! It’s not even seven thirty.”

Ozzy sighs. “Fine. I’ll give you twenty minutes.”

“Thirty,” she counters.

“Twenty-five.”

“Fine,” she grumbles.

Ozzy turns, jerking his head to his left. I hesitate for a second before following him. He opens the door to a windowless room with a mirror on one wall and exercise equipment lining the other three walls.

“I already exercised,” I say.

He shuts the door after I step into the room. “Lola won’t leave that room until I drag her out. And her grandparents won’t come downstairs until nine to tell her good night. So we have time.”

“To exerci—”

Ozzy cups my face and kisses me. He pulls back and grins. “To kiss,” he whispers, sliding his lips from my mouth to my ear. “To touch.” He laces his fingers with mine and kisses my neck. “To dream.”

I smile, eyes closed. “Tell me about the dream.”

“I get you to myself. No disruptions. No curfews. For a whole night.”

Releasing his hands, I rest mine on his chest as he lifts his head. “How do we make that happen?” I ask.

His brow tightens. “I don’t know.”

“Tia seems . . .”

“Bitter. Harsh. Unbendable.”

I nod several times. “But why? Was Brynn’s death your fault?”

“No. It’s guilt by association.” His fingertips ghost along my jaw as he bends to brush his lips over mine. “But I don’t want to talk about her when we don’t have much time.”

I nip at his lower lip. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t think we should talk at all. Someone could hear us.” He kisses me again, flicking his tongue against mine.

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