"Then we can move in next door." I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles.
We hit traffic immediately, so I stop talking and just let her drive. And the happy silence means I get to really look at her andsoak up how nice it is to breathe the same air as her, to feel her presence.
Palm trees anchor every intersection we stop at, making an ordinary drive through a busy city more interesting—and distracting. Because it’s not until we turn off the highway that I realize we aren’t heading toward Frankie’s house.
I trace my fingers up and down her thigh, feeling her muscle flex under my touch. “Where are we going?”
“The beach.” She presses her lips together, trying not to smile. She's trying so hard to keep it together, to not spoil the surprise, and it's fucking adorable.
“Fun.”
“I hope so.”
"Any other hints?"
"Nope."
“I can’t wait.”
She slows down as we approach the beach parking lot entrance, but instead of driving straight, she turns just before it, down what can only be described as an alley. It's not a proper street, but it is lined with small garages, and she pulls into one halfway down the block.
"So..." She turns off the car and twists to face me, her eyes bright with excitement. "Sloane had a really good idea. The best way for us to decide where we might want to live this summer is to spend a night or two in each of the different options. This is our home for the next two nights.”
"You rented us a place?"
"Two places, actually. We'll split the time between neighborhoods." She's talking faster now, nervous. "And this way we have privacy, and we don't have to worry about Sloane and Liz—not that they're not great, but I just thought?—"
I kiss her. Hard and deep, cutting off her rambling. When I pull back, she's breathless again.
"You clever woman."
"Not my idea!" she protests.
"But you surround yourself with smart people." I cup her face in my hands. "And you made it happen."
We get out of the car, and I grab my carry-on while she leads me to a door that opens onto a stairwell. Three flights up, and we're at a door painted a cheerful yellow.
She unlocks it and steps inside. “It's not huge, but it’s cute.”
I follow her in and immediately understand why she chose this place. The entire back wall is windows, overlooking the Venice Beach boardwalk and the ocean beyond. The late afternoon sun streams in, making everything golden.
It's small but well-decorated, modern and cozy at the same time. A kitchen area flows into a living space with a couch and a small dining table. And down a short hallway, I can see a door that must lead to the bedroom.
And most importantly, we're finally all alone.
"I dropped off my bag earlier," she says, turning in the living room space. "And I stocked the fridge with some food?—"
I catch her around the waist, turning her to press our bodies together. My nose drags along her hair, her temple, breathing in her scent. Then I lift her chin so I can lay claim to her mouth again.
With a happy sigh, she kisses me back.
God, I've missed this. The phone sex was good—really good—but it's nothing compared to actually having her in my arms, feeling her body against mine, tasting her. She works her tongue into my mouth and makes the best fucking sounds, these little whimpers and gasps that I've been dreaming about.
I know there's probably a protocol here. We should probably talk more, maybe eat something, definitely take a tour of the place. But I've been patient for a month, and my patience is gone.
Walking backward so I don't have to stop kissing her, I head for the room I guessed has the bed in it.
I'm right.
