“Oh, we’re fancy now.”
God, why did I have to speak?
“Fancy?” She stared up at me and chuckled.
“I always thought arm holding was for fancy people. Not for the likes of me.”
She pursed her lips and let go of my arm, and I was about to complain when she shifted her weight, her balance wobbling just slightly.
She winced, barely noticeable, but I caught it.
My brows furrowed. “You good?”
She exhaled through her nose, annoyed, and straightened. “Fine. These heels just suck.”
I glanced down at her ridiculous shoes, the thin straps digging into the smooth skin of her ankles, and before I could think better of it, I crouched slightly, lowering my back.
“Hop on.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Your feet hurt,” I said simply. “Piggyback time.”
She hesitated. “I can walk, Brooks.”
I turned, shooting her a look over my shoulder. “Mitch, we both know you’re stubborn as hell. But your face just did a thing when you took a step, and I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
She scoffed, but I could see the internal war happening behind her eyes. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she hiked up her dress and jumped onto my back.
And fuck me, I was not prepared.
Her arms locked around my shoulders, her thighs squeezing my waist as she adjusted her grip. Her breath fanned against my neck, and for a second, I had to rein in every instinct that wanted to lean into her, to hold her tighter than necessary.
Do not comment on her legs, Madsen.
Do not.
“The piggyback is an excellent means of travel, m’lady,” I murmured, my hands firm but respectful against the backs of her thighs.
Jesus, her skin was soft.
She hummed, her tone teasing but just a little breathless. “You sure I’m not too heavy?”
I let out a low laugh, adjusting my grip. “Michelle, you weigh nothing. You’re like a damn feather with an attitude problem.”
She chuckled, and I could feel the vibration of it against my back. I moved forward, keeping my strides slow and steady, but her hold on me tightened.
Then, very softly, she sighed.
Not irritated.
Not defensive.
Just… comfortable.
I smiled, knowing better than to say anything and ruin it.
“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” I said, keeping my voice easy, low, “but I gotta say—you feel damn good against me.”
