Page 98 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
“You have the other Circle 8 kids. I’m sure you’re friends with them.”
“They’re other kids who work all the time. I haven’t seen any of them in the flesh.”
“Wyatt, I don’t want you to be sad. I wish you could see your life from my perspective. It’s fabulous.”
Wyatt lifts his chin and meets my gaze. “And I wish you c-could see how head over heels I am for you. I wish you’d understand that my re-re-relationship with you is the only thing I care about.”
“But...”
I’m cut off when Wyatt’s lips rush over mine. I lower my eyelids,delighting in every sensation tingling in our kiss. Wyatt tilts his head like a pro. Perhaps how to kiss is the one thing he remembers from his film star life. The pleasure skyrockets past anything I remember from our middle school dalliance. It’s almost unfathomable, because I have romanticized the heck out of those past kisses.
Our hands stay clasped, and the connection gives me an extra thrill of electricity.
He breaks away from me, mumbling a laugh as he pants. “Sorry. Needed to come up for air.”
I rub my lips together and bashfully raise a hand over my mouth.
His chest rises and falls and then he leans in again, head perfectly angled.
I press a hand on his shoulder, asking, “Are you good?”
“I can’t stop kissing you this soon,” he says breathily. “We have so much time to make up for.”
“We have time,” I whisper.
He grins. “Not enough.”
I giggle, sliding my hand behind his neck and he lays another kiss on me. His arms snake around my back and he tugs me closer. As his hands press into my lower back, his arms flex at my sides and pull me up against him. I hum a laugh against his lips, and my chest hits his as I’m cradled in his arms.
When our lips break apart, his nose brushes against mine.
“I’m not letting you go, Josie Bartlett,” he whispers. “Not now. Not ever.”
I giggle. “Not even to let a girl freshen up?”
He butterfly kisses my nose. “Okay, I’ll unhand you for that.”
After freshening up in the bathroom, I grab a robe from Wyatt’s walk-in closet, and meet him in the dining room for breakfast.
As he sits in a dining chair, I creep up behind him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, latching my hands against his chest. As he clutchesmy bundled hands, I kiss his cheek.
“I was missing you already,” I admit, slinking into the chair beside him.
He kisses my hand. “Same.”
“Do we call room service for food?”
“Hubert already came by. I didn’t know what you wanted, so he said he’d come back to ask you.”
“What are you getting?”
“Coconut yogurt and granola,” he replies. “It’s the only thing I want in the mornings.”
“How health-conscious of you,” I joke.
He smiles. “I guess so.”
“Miss Bartlett,” Hubert says, making his way into the dining room. “I trust you slept well this morning. May I get your breakfast order?”
