Page 70 of Eat Your Heart Out
For a few minutes, we flew around, and I was his. His pulse sent mine spiking. And in my head, I started ripping his clothes off, right there, right then. I would trail my fingers along his muscles that he kept up with two to three hours of gym time a day.
I let out a sigh and let him go, though. If I didn’t, I would follow through on my naughty thoughts. “Well, that sounds nice. I was wondering why we didn’t enjoy the balcony where we ate au naturel.”
He laughed. I did the same thing, as clearly, I’d shocked him.
Then he winked at me. “Au naturel? All you think about is sex now?”
My lips quirked higher on my cheeks. It was more for me, but words were impossible. I flirted. “Well, it’s fun because I’m with you. Everything is.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Everything?”
His lips on mine would taste amazing right then. “Sure, including finding out why you only wear white socks.”
“I’ve never been into brand names of anything, and socks can be… obnoxious.”
He could not only pull off something ridiculous—he made it a fashion statement. It was his right and privilege.
I pressed into him. “Those are deep feelings for things that protect your soles.”
“Soles carry us where we want to go, but no one sees, and I don’t care if someone in a boardroom disapproves or not.”
That sounded almost poetic. I traced his collar. “Which means they can be anything you want.”
His skin heated. He stroked my arm. “Tell you what… pick me out a pair of socks you want me to model for you.”
The idea of something yellow and bright crossed my mind. “In public?”
He laughed. “Fine, I’ll do it in public for you.”
“You might regret that promise,” I said, though I wouldn’t make anything painful for him.
“I trust you, Ali.”
My heart thumped. I would protect him too. I nodded. “Good.”
He could wear white socks forever. It didn’t matter as long as he kept his heart. Hopefully, I could change enough to accept the wonderful possibility of life I imagined with him.
