Page 79 of Top Shelf
I try to school my features not to show my panic. The truth is that her bed technicallyhasalready arrived. It may or may not be me who keeps delaying things with the delivery, and it’s solely because I like sharing a bed with her. I’m getting some of the best nights of sleep with her lying next to me, and I’m in no hurry to change that anytime soon. It’s completely selfish, but I’ve found that I am when it comes to her.
“What? Are you eager to stop sharing a bed with me?” I ask, trying to distract her so she doesn’t start asking too many questions.
“What?” She looks horrified. “No! I was just wondering when it’ll get here so I can know when I need to pay you back for it.”
I stop, and Nessa knocks right into me.
“What the hell, Gavin? Walk much?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“About your inability to walk? Oh, I am very serious.” She glares up at me, her arms now crossed over her chest, pushing her tits up and distracting me for just a moment.
I shake it away. “No, about you paying me back. Because you’re not.”
“Uh, yes, I am. You’re notreallybuying me a bed.”
“Yes, I am.” I grab her hand and pull her toward the car.
She drags her feet against the ground in an attempt to pull me to a stop, but it’s futile. I’m far too big for her to be able to affect my movement. “Gavin, stop. I’m being serious.”
“I am too,” I say over my shoulder, still charging forward.
“You cannot buy me a bed! I mean, the idea of it is really cute and all, but the execution? There are implications.”
“What?” I scoff. “If those implications are that I like taking care of you, then whatever.”
“Yeah, but I’m notyoursto take care of.”
This time, I do stop, and once again, she crashes into me.
“Stop doing that,” she grouses, righting herself. She pushes her hair out of her face and scowls up at me petulantly, that bratty side of hers I enjoy a bit too much coming out. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what? Like I’m pissed?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” She tips her chin up, and I wonder if it’s me she’s trying to convince or herself.
I take a step forward, then another. We’re toe to toe, so close Nessa has to lean her head back to look up at me.
“If I recall correctly,Nessa”—her eyes spark at the way I say her name—“I said you belong to me back in New York. And I meant it. Now, get in the goddamn car before I throw you over my shoulder and put you in there myself.”
Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t move. So, I do as I promised—I lift her into my arms and drop her over my shoulder.
“Gavin whatever-the-hell-your-middle-name-is Whitlocke! Put me down—now!”
“It’s Barry.”
“Barry?!” she says incredulously.
“And Douglas.”
“Oh my god, you’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” I smack her ass, and she inhales sharply. “Now, hush.”
To my surprise, she does, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she liked that slap a little too much. Knowing her, probably. When we finally reach the car, I set her on her feet and open the door for her.
“After you,” I say, bending at the waist.
