“Maybe that’s what happens when it’s deprived of seeing you naked for so long.”
I laughed. “Could be.”
“We could solve that problem. Work on reviving that one, as well.”
“We could,” I said, exiting the bathroom.
He stepped in front of me, his brows drawing down. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Is it being back? Is it whatever your ex wrote on that note?Ordidn’twrite? Your dead plants? Your restaurant? What do you need?”
I shook my head because I really couldn’t pinpoint what it was at all, but he was right that itwassomething. I felt out of sorts.
I wrapped my arms around his middle and immediately relaxed a bit. I relaxed even more when he held me tight and rested his cheek against my head.
“You’re not worried about your mom, are you?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I think I just need to see the restaurant and then I’ll feel better.”
“Do you want to go now?”
“Can we?”
“Of course. You’re the boss this weekend. I do whatever you say.”
“WhateverI say?”
“Yes,whateveryou say.” He kissed my temple, then my neck, and ended on my lips.
I kissed him back, wishing I was the kind of person who could completely relax right now, let him throw me on the bed and forget everything for an hour.
Maybe I could be.
My hands went to the bottom of his T-shirt and snuck their way inside, brushing along the smooth skin of his back. He let out a low hum and my insides set fire, my body melting against his.
His hands brushed along my ass, then down to the back of my thighs, where he lifted me up and walked several steps until my back was pressed up against the nearest wall. I sucked in a surprised gasp of air but then wrapped my legs around hiswaist. I could feel him hard against me through my jeans. I dug my fingers into his hair, and his tongue thrust deeper into my mouth, eliciting a moan from me.
Then he was kissing my neck, and his hand slid up my side until it was cupping my breast in a firm grip. His mouth went back to mine, almost desperate. Or maybe that’s how I felt. Desperate for him to feel every inch of me. For this fire inside me to combust.
With that word, my mind suddenly imagined a cell phone falling into a fryer. And potatoes. Boxes of potatoes. And really cheap art and how everyone must’ve hated our really cheap art.
“Where’d you go?” he asked.
I unhooked my legs from his waist and he slid me down the wall.
“I’m just worried about the restaurant and…”
“It’s okay. You’re not a machine. You’re allowed to worry. Let’s go.” He nodded toward the door.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
I pointed to the bathroom. “Give me a minute.”
He pulled at his jeans. “A minute will be good for me too.”
