The chickenshit dashes down the hedgerow. “You’re gonna regret this.”
The fuck I am.
Not when I have Ziggy in my arms, sagging against me.
I bury my face in her hair. “Are you fucking kiddingme?” I mutter to her. “Is there a single dude in this city who doesn’t want to corner you with a business proposition?”
She starts giggling.
“You okay?” I add.
She squeezes me tight. “I am now.”
“A fuckingmaze?”
“I thoughtyouwould come find me. Not him.”
“No more mazes. No more events. No more anything unless I’m right by your side. Understand?”
“I knew you’d be here.”
Her cheek rests on my shoulder, and I give in to the moment of privacy to slip my fingers through her hair. “You smell amazing.”
“You feel amazing.”
“I want to go home and peel this dress off you and inspect every inch of you to make sure you’re really okay.”
She shivers. “I’ve wanted to hold your hand and lean against you and smell you all night.”
“Fuck, Ziggy, we’re only halfway done with tonight.”
“But we’re alone now,” she whispers. “We have a few minutes.”
This woman. “Only if we’re quiet,” I whisper back. “Sound carries through the maze.”
“Good. We’ll hear if anyone’s coming.”
She lifts her head and brushes her lips against mine.
I groan in relief at kissing her after barely being able to even see her most of the night.
She’s okay.
I’m okay.
She doesn’t want the fuckwank.
She wants me.
Me, the guy whose ass she’s gripping as she touches her tongue to mine.
Me, the guy who’s slipping my fingers under her dress while I hold her tight, feeling the silky skin of her leg, the muscle tone, the hair between her thighs.
She whimpers and spreads her legs as I realize?—
She’s not wearing underwear.
She’s completely bare under this dress.
