Page 93 of Road Trip to Forever
We’ve only been here for a few minutes, barely enough time for him to grab a coffee and guide me to our first stop—the Pirates of the Caribbean ride—but I already know I couldn’t dream up a better day if I tried.
* * *
“You did notbeatme,Lola. My laser stopped working,” Patrick argues. “There’s a difference.” He lets out an huff and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the building behind me. I’ve never seen him look so irritated. “It betrayed me.”
“We could always try again, if you’re so sure it wasn’t a user error,” I suggest, shrugging one shoulder. “Best two out of three?”
“No. I’m not giving you the satisfaction of being right.” He glances at his watch. “Besides, we have to move on to the next thing. How does The Haunted Mansion then dinner sound, honey?” he asks, twirling my ponytail through his fingers.
I’m still not used to him calling me something other than my name, and it catches me off guard. I misstep and lose my footing on the train tracks in the center of the road. “What? Oh. Sure. Sounds good to me. I’m starving,” I say when I catch my breath.
I derail his carefully laid plans as we head toward the other side of the park, making it five minutes before we stop for an ice cream sandwich. We split the dessert, chocolate on our hands and crumbs clinging to our lips. I apologize for the diversion, knowing how he’s allotted specific minutes to our entire day, but he doesn’t seem to care. Patrick gives my arm a squeeze and kisses my forehead, letting out a jovialfuck the plansas he tugs us into the VIP entrance at The Haunted Mansion.
People crane their necks, glancing curiously as we pass, assessing us and wondering if we’re important or famous. Like maybe one of us is a B-list celebrity or a former child actor.
Nope, I want to say.Just a guy and a woman who’s falling in love with him.
He helps me into the moving ride vehicle and we take off into a dimly lit room.
“How’s the day so far?” Patrick asks softly, his arm curling around my shoulders.
“Everything I hoped it would be and more. I don’t think I can say thank you enough times to convey how appreciative I really and truly am. This must have taken hours to set up.”
“I know you’re appreciative.” He pulls me across the bench, his shoulder pressing into mine.
I rest my head in the crook of his neck, under his chin. “I’m still going to say it.”
“Worth me not answering your questions?” he asks, and I roll my eyes in the dark.
“Yeah, yeah yeah,” I say. I squeal when he pokes my ribs and tickles my stomach. “Hands to yourself, buddy. You’re going to make me laugh, and I’d hate to ruin the ride experience for all the children who think the ghosts are going to follow them home.”
“If we’ve learned anything on this trip, we know ghosts can and will definitely follow us home,” he says, dropping his hand to my knee, a safe zone. “But fine. I’ll stop.”
I feel bold, fueled by the dark lighting and the heat from both our bodies. My hand covers his and I drag it up my leg. “I like when you touch me,” I whisper.
Patrick blows out a breath, a rush of air I feel against my cheek. His fingers press into the top of my thigh and he rubs his thumb over the silver button keeping my shorts in place.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks in a husky voice. He drags his fingers along the waistband of the denim cutoffs and dips just under the top of my underwear. “Here?”
My legs widen without thought, opening for him willingly. Forget being in a public place. This is what Ineed.
“Yes,” I say. “There.”
“I’ll add it to the pile of evidence I’m collecting.”
“Evidence?”
“To see what you like. What you don’t like. Maybe…” He runs his knuckle down my zipper, adding a push of pressure against the stitched seam. I bite my lip to keep from moaning and giving us away, and my back arches forward. “Ah. Definitely there. Listen to the sounds you make. Fucking sexy,” he murmurs.
“Patrick,” I whine.
“You can’t say my name like that, Lola, or we’re going to get kicked out of this theme park for the things I’m going to do to you,” he says, low and deep in my ear. “And I haven’t gotten to feed you like I want to. I haven’t gotten to buy you a souvenir. I haven’t gotten to spoil you in all the ways that I want, so you need to behave.”
His hand falls away and I wiggle in the seat, craving the friction his touch could give me. “That’s not fair.” I drop my head back and close my eyes. “I’m all worked up.”
“That’s how I’ve felt around you for years.” Our ride vehicle pulls back into the station, and I’m off-balance as I step onto the moving walkway toward the exit. “Out of my goddamn mind.”
* * *
