Page 15 of Doing It for Love

“Oh please. I bet you’re just aching to tear this uniform off me.” I shake my bust at him.

He tickles my sides before helping me off the car. After taking his phone back he helps me into the passenger seat, kissing me while I sit.

“Where are we going?” I ask him, keeping hold of his T-shirt so he doesn’t move away from my mouth.

“Home, then a surprise.”

I pout, and he just nips at my bottom lip and backs up to shut the door. He thinks he’s won, but I really don’t mind surprises. If I really wanted to know, I’d bet another honeymoon that I’d get it out of him.

—

Landon’s covered in white. Like the Tide commercial white. He’s hatless, his dark hair perfectly messy. His tan arms sneak from a crisp short-sleeved button-down. Muscles ripple as he drives, manly hands gripping the steering wheel, and he smells yummy. Like toast actually, but spiced toast. I have to smack my lips together because my mouth feels incredibly moist.

My eyes drift over his forearm—which is probably the best muscle there is. I have a thing for forearms. Something about the way Landon’s muscles are so prominent when he’s hovering over me, holding himself up on those bad boys and giving me a hard pounding. Things flutter in the lady bits and I have to blink and focus on somewhere not his forearms, but my horny brain goes straight to his pants. I’ve nevereverseen him in white pants, and now I don’t ever want to see him in anything else. If he’s trying to win the bet, kudos to him. We haven’t been on a date in forever, and I internally fist-pump the air because I finally feel like we’re crawling out of our norm.

I smooth out the white fabric of the dress I’m being forced to wear, wondering if I’m causing the same sort of effect on him that he is on me. I’d adjust the ladies to make sure they’re more bouncy, but jamming my hand down my bra and lifting the suckers probably isn’t that hot.

Adjusting again, I accidentally knock my head on the rearview mirror and Landon reaches over to fix it with a laugh. But seriously, I don’t wear dresses. I own three skirts, and I guess Theresa decided those weren’t good enough options for what Landon has planned, so she bought me this. It’s cute—albeit uncomfortable—but I have an inkling he’s taking me to some sort of white party. And I’m so not a clubber.

To dry out the lady parts and help out the nervous butterflies, I crank up the music and start belting it out.

“I knew I loved you before I met you!” I sing into the tire pressure gauge. “I think I dreamed of you with pies.”

Landon snorts and shakes his head at the windshield. He reaches for the iPod to change the song, but I bat his hand away.

“You stop that. Savage Garden is the shit.”

“You don’t even know the real words.” He makes a face as I sing the next lyric. “Stop torturing me!”

I evil laugh with the iPod, turning the volume up and dancing in my seat. My music preference stayed firmly in the late nineties, early two-thousands. Boy bands are the best thing to ever happen to my eardrums…and the worst to Landon’s.

After the final guitar strum I switch over to some *NSYNC while Landon continues to shake his head at me.

“Are we almost there?”

Landon answers with a grin, nodding out my side of the car. He pulls up to a club I’ve never set foot in, and from the line outside, it looks like I’m not going to tonight either.

“Um…” I raise an eyebrow while he throws the car in park. We’re the only ones in full white, so my brain is short on guesses about what we’re doing. “I think you should’ve used the GPS.”

“Ha. Ha.” He taps my nose with the car key. “Trust me.”

We get out, and I’m instantly grateful I put on flats. The asphalt is covered with gravel and early-autumn leaves crunching under our feet as Landon leads me straight to the bouncers.

I grab onto Landon’s biceps, tucking in close. I’m not sure what he has in mind since he knows I’m not the best clubber. I already feel out of place. And we’re only outside.

The bouncer looks as if he’s going to kill the next person who says something to him until he catches Landon’s eye and turns a one-eighty, grinning wide and fist-bumping my hubby-to-be.

“Congratulations, man,” he says. My cheeks feel hot under the lights in the entryway. My grip tightens on his arm. What is happening?

Landon says, “Thanks,” wiggles from my hold, and places a hand on the small of my back. “Ladies first.”

“I don’t think I want to,” I say with a laugh. Landon’s hand slides around my waist and pulls me close.

“I won’t leave your side, scaredy-cat.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

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