“I’m serious,” he laughed.
“Liar.” No part of me believed him.
“I’m telling the truth. Grab my wallet; I’ll show you my driver’s license.”
I studied him momentarily, wondering if I should, but curiosity always kills the cat, so I grabbed his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license.
“You had me all figured out,” he commented, and I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Isaac Brooks,” I read, then bit my bottom lip. “Sorry, your last name was way off.”
“It’s all good.” He smiled at me in that sleepy, just-sexed way, making my stomach flutter.
I replaced his driver’s license and tossed his wallet back on the bedside table, then crawled back to him, “Well, Mr. Brooks, it is lovely to properly meet you.”
A rough chuckle tumbled out of his pretty mouth as I curled into his side, and he held me against his chest. “Anna, it has been an absolute pleasure to meet you.”
“You know what I want to do?” I asked, running a finger down his chest.
He cocked a suggestive eyebrow at me.
“Not that—I mean, yes. But also, I really want to order a pizza.”
He smiled wide, reached for his phone, and immediately started punching in an order. “What’s your favorite kind of pizza?”
“Based on how well we’re getting along this weekend, probably the same as yours,” I said.
We stared at each other for a beat then both immediately said: “Meat lovers.”
Laughter exploded out of us.
“Ranch?” he asked.
“No!” I shrieked. “That ruins pizza.”
He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You were almost perfect.”
I giggled. “I won’t judge you for ranch on pizza if you don’t judge me for liking pineapple on pizza.”
“Now I feel like you’re trying to start a war,” he deadpanned and I laughed again while he went back to ordering pizza. “All right, what else?”
I sighed. Happy. Euphoric. “Just a little bit more of you.”
He clickedcomplete orderon his phone and a devilish grin flashed across his face as he rolled me on my back. “We have thirty minutes.”
And that was when he gave me a little bit more of him.
Everything inside me melted and pulsed as he dragged his lips down my chest until his head was between my legs, and I was seeing stars.
Then we ate pizza and laughed through the night. We told each other our dreams—even the small ones that could be accomplished in a day, but also the big ones that could only be accomplished in a lifetime. I told him I wanted to own my own bookstore and he told me he wanted to one day own a winery.
“So do it,” I said, and he shrugged.
“Maybe one day it will make sense.”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and took a sip of Diet Coke. “I don’t think it’s about doing it when it makes sense. I think it’s about doing it because there’s a passion inside you, fueling you to pursue it. If we wait to do things when they make sense, we’ll be waiting forever.”
“Or we’ll only do the things that make sense and end up bored,” he added.
