How the hell Jovi found it is beyond me. It's not that I forgot it was still there. Just tried not to think about it. Because two years is a long time to hope for something without ever catching a glimmer of it coming to fruition.
Now, here, is the last time or place I ever would have expected it.
And yet, something about it feels right as the lace glides over my skin, clinging to the shape of me in a way that makes me feel both lovely and fucking hot.
For a night out with Jovi.
I let the thought linger. Wait for the moment my sanity makes a comeback, and I scramble my way out of this shirt to put on something more appropriate. Like flannel. Or a loose-fitting turtleneck.
But that moment doesn't come.
Instead, my feet start moving toward the mirror beside the tall bookshelves where earrings and bracelets litter the space in frontof my books along with eye liner and tinted lip balm, and I finish getting ready.
Habit has me reaching for my boots, but then, in another twist of my increasing madness, I reach for a pair of strappy heels instead. Hey, Jovi fucking asked for it.
And while that is the thought that remains like a quiet echo as I march down the stairs, a warrior headed into a war zone, Jovi's reaction still catches me off guard.
"Fuck me," the words are barely audible as they escape on his exhale.
His eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape as he stands frozen mid-move at the bottom of the stairs where he was in the middle of collecting my jacket and keys for me. "You look incredible."
I crinkle my nose trying not to note the fact he's not wearing jeans for once.
Or that the black slacks and charcoal shirt fit well enough to show off the lines of his extremely fit body.
And I'm definitely ignoring the way the undone buttons of his collar expose enough skin to allow for a peek at that chest tattoo of his, which now I can't help but picture in its entirety.
And fuck it all, are the bars in his nipples visible as well? Am I fucking trying to make out their shape through the crisp material of his button-up shirt?
Clearly, both of us have been cooped up with horses and children for too long if these are the reactions we elicit from each other just by putting on proper clothes. Or fucking at all.
"I'm glad you think so," I say, clearing my throat as I reach the last step. "These are the fruits of your labor, after all."
"True," he grins. "You should let me pick your clothes more often."
"You ever go into my closet again, it'll be the last thing you do," I say, stabbing the point of my finger into his chest. Which is solid. Ugh. And my finger stays in place way longer than it should, my mind blanking out at the contact. How long has it been since I thought about a man in any way that wasn't related to being irritated. Must be very long indeed when Jovi is the man I'm suddenly having these thoughts over.
I shake it off, and hold my hands out for the keys and jacket he was retrieving for me when I came downstairs. "Let's do this so we can hurry up and get back, and I can put on the pajamas I really want to be wearing right now," I huff.
He smiles, sliding my keys into his own pocket before holding up my jacket and jutting out his chin for me to turn around. So he can help me put it on. Like he's some sort of gentleman and this is some sort of date. What in the actual fuck is happening right now?
I ignore my own question, let him help me into the slender sleeves of my black velvet blazer, then walk away from him, straight for the kitchen where the sounds alone suggest that the homemade pizza party is in full swing. And I was uninvited.
"You look nice," Holly says as I step into the kitchen, coming to a stop several feet short of the island where a bag of flour appears to have exploded.
"Are you sure you can handle this?" I grimace, taking in the disaster unfolding from counter to counter. Both kids are dusted in white from head to toe and to make matters more interesting, Holly is holding a large bowl of tomato sauce.
"We're creatives," she says as she waves me off. "We get a little messy. And then we clean up."
"We had a flour fight," Gavin says, beaming, unbothered by the flour stuck in his eye lashes. Something between his bright smile and the way he’s been steadily improving his Rs, strikes me right in the chest. Time is moving us all forward in more ways than one.
"You realize all of this will turn to paste when you put them in the bathtub." For a bath they shouldn't have needed, considering they already had one after the mud mess we all got into earlier.
"I know," Holly says, reaching down to pick up a duster she had stashed at the ready sitting at her feet. "Which is why there will be no water involved in the cleanup."
My face falls. "I don't feel any better about this."
Before Holly can persuade me, two large hands cup my shoulders and a deep voice rumbles beside my ear, warm breath brushing my neck as Jovi leans in. "They'll be fine." Then he straightens up again, his body closing in behind mine as he continues to keep his hands on me. "You guys remember the deal?" he asks the kids.
