“Shut up, Bella.”
I giggle as I squeeze his arm tighter, refusing to let go when we reach the stairs.
Mickey smirks. “About the blindfold… how off the table is it?”
My skin blazes when someone walks past, and I hiss, “We’re in public.”
“Are you trying to change my mind? Baby girl, the thought of fucking you raw in front of other people makes me crazy.”
“What?” I squeak, hiding behind my unmade hair.
“Then there’s no doubt about who you belong to.” He winks and says under his breath, “And who’s going to be the death of me.”
I give him a nerve-racking chuckle that grates against my bones. Dear Lord, what does this man have planned?
I mean, what’s the worst it could be? My immediate thought is a dead body, but Ireallydon’t know how much that fazes me anymore, despite how much I hate the thought. And there’s no way Mickey would show me a dead animal.
Christ, what if he made a super impulsive purchase and bought a cramped little sports car? Or like that time he bought three bikes because he couldn’t decide on one.
“Please, no blindfold,” I whisper.
Looking up at the ceiling, he groans. “I really can’t say no to you, can I?”
“I think you can.”
He squints, then bobs his head from side to side. “You’re right, I can.” As soon as we make it through the front door, he slides in from behind me, covering my eyes with his warm hands. “You said no blindfolds. Nothing about hands,” he says pointedly.
I make a noise of frustration, but my nerves are buzzing beneath my skin, so I can’t find the words to say as Mickey guides me forward. Pavement changes to gravel beneath my feet, crunching with each step we take until we come to an abrupt stop.
“You ready, Princess?”
No.
“Yes.”
I hold my breath as he removes his hands. My lips part on a gasp before I can hold it back.
A quaint sage caravan hooks onto the back of the pickup truck. Buttery cream and lace curtains peek out from behind the silver-trimmed windows. It’s the type of caravan you’d see on retro magazines and vintage-inspired mood boards.
I can already picture it nestled next to a tree by the beach while we both lounge on fold-out chairs. Or hidden away in the forest with fairy lights draped from the trimming as we picnic on the damp earth.
“Surprise,” Mickey whispers in my ear.
“Mickey,” is all I manage to say.
This is what I always wanted without truly realizing it: to be able to travel around the country, feeling sand between my toes, tasting freedom on my tongue. There would be nothing holding us back.
“I know,” he says smugly. “You don’t need to hold the applause.”
Turning in his arms, I face his stunning gray eyes that always seem to find me, even when I don’t want them to.
“It’s ten in the morning. How did you find a caravan?”
His eyes narrow into stilts before his lips spread into a smile. “Is that really the first thing that popped into your head?” He chuckles to himself. “You have such a beautiful mind, baby.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
He silences me with a kiss that makes me forget whatever useless question I asked. “It’s calledthe internet.” Strong fingers intertwine with mine, and he tugs me along. “Let me show you our new home.” Unlocking the door, he pulls it open to let me step inside.
