Page 97 of The Sun and the Moon
“It depends. On a scale of one to betrayal, how much do you want to stick it to your mom?” I ask, playful but no less sincere. She grins—I am awash with relief.
“I think I’d rather have a dinner I don’t have to pay for under a blanket of stars than try to prove a point to a woman who has already decided she’s as flawless as God.” She tugs me back into her, and my stomach turns molten as her curves collapse into mine. “As long as you’ll be my date.”
I let a slow smile creep up my lips.
She doesn’t let me finish before she’s back to kissing me again. We twist together toward the room. She unlocks the door, and I kick off my shoes inside.
“I think I need to rinse off,” I say, catching her eyes with mine. The door slides closed.
She yanks off my button-down.Yes. “I could shower.” Her smile is mischief.
I rush to the bathroom, turning the faucet to hot. I make a quick escape of my clothes, and then she’s behind me, her hands winding around to cup my breasts, her lips against my neck,tongue titillating my ear. She presses her breasts against my back, and I lean into her flesh. My hand becomes a heat-seeking sensor, searching for the warmth between her legs.
“You feel so good,” I growl. She spins me around to kiss me, and we step into the steamy cover of the shower.
I tuck in for a long kiss, sliding with her under the water.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I say against her lips. She pulls back to look at me, pushing the wet strands of my hair off my face. Her eyes do an extensive search.
“I think I might already be there,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss my forehead, down to my eyebrow, over my cheek. She runs her hands over my hips as her eyes trail down. “Every beautiful landscape, every wonder I’ve seen, is nothing compared to you.”
She scoops me against her, and I lose myself, soft curves all folding into one another. Warm lips working over damp skin.
All my senses, all full of her.
Chapter Forty-Five
Cadence
That anyone ever thought this wasn’t a wedding just shows how self-involved we all truly are. We arrive at the winery on the final shuttle, almost late and with absolutely zero regrets about it. They’re handing out flutes of sparkling wine as an aperitif. A sign shows us the way down the main path that heads into the vineyard and up the hill to where the gazebo sits sturdy.
Almost everyone seems to have gotten the invitations. Turned up in the nicest thing they brought to wear. The only person noticeably absent is Hawthorne. Lola is standing at the gazebo stairs, holding Chicken, her bright copper hair swept up in a bun. She’s got on a dark brown jumpsuit, glittery jewelry, and a pair of espadrilles. I give Sydney’s hand a squeeze.
“I need to go talk to Lola,” I say. “You texting your dad?”
“Nah, I think he should be kept in suspense until the last possible moment,” she says with a wicked grin. I smack a kiss to her cheek, glancing down the length of her body. She’s wearing a light blue tuxedo dress and white knee-high boots. Her hair is bombshell.
I turn to jelly every time I look at her.
“Be right back.” I walk through the crowd, my eyes catching on Kit and Julia standing in a cluster on the other side of the trail leading up to the gazebo. Julia’s eagle eye scans the setting, and I wonder what her rates are for wedding planning.
The thought catches me off guard. I don’t immediately push it away.
Lola waves Chicken’s paw at me when she sees me approaching. There’s a distance in her expression, though, like she’s not really here at all. Checked out,God forbid, about the absence of her toxic pacifist boyfriend.
“Does this make you honorary ring bearer?” I say, trying to break the funk.
“I wasn’t sure you were gonna come,” she says, cutting her eyes over to Sydney. “Either of you.” She looks back to me.
“I wasn’t, either,” I reply. “It’s been a roller coaster.”
“You know, don’t you?” she says. Her voice is tempered, measured, like she’s trying to hold in the bigger, more explosive feelings. I won’t play games with her. She definitely deserves better than that.
“Moira’s selling Kismet,” I say. Her features crumple like a piece of paper in a fist. “It’s shitty she didn’t tell you.”
“No, no—well, yeah, it is—but that’s not why I’m upset.” She waves me off with one hand, disturbing Chicken’s comfortable position. He makes a little peep to indicate his disapproval. “I don’t want to go yet, but I’m about to turn twenty-seven, and I’ve never been on my own. Not from significant others, not from Kismet.” She pauses, and I fill in the rest.
“Not from Moira.”
