Page 42 of Own the Eights Gets Married
She crossed and uncrossed her legs, cracked her knuckles, then plucked a pen from her bag.
He glanced her way. “Georgiana, are you okay?”
Jesus! Maybe she had blown a gasket.
“Pull the car over,” she answered, clicking the pen as if she were going for a pen click world record.
He stared at the mass of dense evergreens in all directions, towering majestically along the desolate two-lane road.
“Here? There’s nothing around us.”
“Yes, right here,” she said, speeding up the tempo of the click chorus.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I need you to do something for me,” she replied as the clicks accelerated into a full-on click-tastic calamity of sound.
“I can’t do it while driving? We’re not far from the bridal boot camp. We only have ten minutes to go,” he answered, checking the GPS.
She shook her head. “No, you can’t do it while driving. That would be too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous? What do you need me to do?” he questioned.
The clicks stopped.
“I need your help, Jordan. It’s a Kama Sutra emergency,” she said, lowering her voice as if she were asking him to save the world.
It only took a fraction of a second for his cock to tell his brain to tell his foot to hit the brakes. The tires squealed as earth and pebbles and bits of broken asphalt rose in a dusty plume with particles dancing in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Georgie gasped. “Wow! Remind me to use the Kama Sutra emergency line the next time I need you to unclog the shower drain.”
“Do not pull a false alarm on the Kama Sutra emergency bell,” he fired back as thoughts of their last Kama Sutra reenactment—a little reverse cowgirl on the kitchen floor, following their test bake of the healthy cake—flashed through his mind.
Georgie and cake. After the day they’d had, Christ, that sounded good right about now.
She clicked the pen. “Remember how we once used sex as not really sex but as a vehicle for stress relief?”
Did he remember? How the hell could he ever forget?
He held her gaze. “Are you asking if I’ve forgotten what it was like making love to you for the first time?”
She twisted the hem of her skirt. “No, I’m sure you remember. I was thinking we could get around this no fornication rule if the sex wasn’t for gratification but for stress relief,” she replied, nodding as if she were working this out on the fly.
“That sounds very reasonable,” he replied, ready to unzip his fly and get down to some Kama Sutra business.
She chewed her lip. “I’m not sure if you can tell, but I’m a little anxious.”
A little? Sweet Jesus, that was an understatement!
Luckily, over the past few months, he’d sharpened his boyfriend skills and was smart enough not to point out she was not only a little anxious but more like two pen clicks away from being cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs crazy.
“You do seem a bit on edge,” he answered, damn proud of himself.
She blew out a slow breath. “If we were at a spa, I could get a deep tissue massage or, you know, random spa stuff to help relax.”
He looked around. “But I don’t see a spa.”
“We are out of options when it comes to spas,” she agreed.
