“Good fucking girl,” Memphis rumbles before crashing his mouth down onto mine.
WORTH THE PAIN
Waylynn
My heartactually skips a beat when our lips meet, but then the muscle remembers to fire again, only now it’s pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears and I’m not breathing right.
None of it seems as important as the feel of Memphis’ thumb pressed over my throat, his fingers curled behind my neck, and the soft brush of his tongue against mine. I part my lips a little more to steal a breath, but he tilts his head and covers my mouth again, sliding deeper inside.
The weight of his body pushing me against the car almost feels like it’s too much, but it’s also not quite enough as I struggle to find a full breath. My fingers dig into his forearm when he nips my bottom lip roughly.
My entire body sags in surrender, and Memphis makes a sound that makes me shiver. It’s sexy and needy, but it’s a clear approval of me surrendering to him. His grip tightens on my neck as he tilts my head in a clear display of dominance as he controls my movements. It should be restrictive, but it has the opposite effect on me. I feel free and untethered, like I could touch the stars, and my mind swirls.
A spike of envy I don’t understand pierces through the perfect fog of my thoughts, allowing outside sounds to puncture my blissful bubble.
“Why don’t you kiss me like that?”
I tuck my head down, breaking the kiss. Memphis allows it, and he even manages to shield me as I work to catch my breath. His chest is rising and falling rapidly too.
“Because you never keep your mouth shut long enough,” a man quips with an edgy tone that sounds irritated.
“You’re such a jerk,” the same woman mumbles under her breath, but it’s clearly loud enough for us to hear as they pass by.
Memphis shifts again, effectively hiding the other side of my face with the move. A giggle works its way up my throat when a bell chimes from a door opening. “I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth. Nothing is even funny. I think I just need an outlet for everything going on inside my body.
Memphis’ thumb swipes across my neck a few times before he puts a little pressure under my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes are lidded, and his lips are still damp from our kisses. My belly does this flop thing that makes my breath catch. “No more running, no more not answering your phone. Even if one of us messes up.” I open my mouth with a denial on my tongue, but his brow rises the tiniest bit and my rebuttal dies. “Tell me,” he demands while continuing to peer down at me.
“Yes, sir,” I answer, eager to please him. Memphis’ eyes slip closed when I speak, and he’s slow to open them again. Before, I might have thought his reaction was annoyance at my mistake, but since Oswald mentioned Memphis likes it when I address him as sir, I see his response in a new light…especially when he leans down and places a soft, wet kiss where my shoulder and neck meet.
“Let’s order the food before Oz sends out a search party.”
When Memphis opens the door for me, I hear the familiar bell chime, so I know the couple who caught us kissing is probably in here. I try to act unaffected, but I steal glances around the space, wondering who it might have been. A blonde in the corner catches my eye. She’s looking down at her phone, but the set of her shoulders as she leans against the wall next to a guy in a chair makes me think it’s her. The moment I look away from her, the slight pang of hurt I didn’t even register I was feeling slips away.
Memphis holds my hand in his while we wait in the short line to get up to the register. “What kind of pizza do you like?” he asks while looking at the menu board behind the counter.
“Thin crust or deep dish, there’s no between.”
“See? I learned something new. Toppings?”
“What do you like?” I counter. People have very strong feelings about certain pizza toppings, and I don’t want him to judge me for liking pineapple.
“I usually get pepperoni.” We take a step forward as the line moves.
I scrunch up my nose. Pepperoni isn’t my favorite. Ideally, I’d get a white pizza with chicken, mushrooms, and spinach, but I don’t see anything like that on the menu. “I like mushrooms,” I offer.
We step up to the counter, and a girl in an orange shirt greets us. “Hi. Just so you know, we have about a fifteen-minute wait on hot and readys.”
If I hadn’t seen the signs all over advertising the hot and ready pizzas, I might think her comment was strange. “I’ll take a deep-dish mushroom, a deep-dish pineapple, and two orders of crazy bread,” Memphis tells her.
I glance over at him as the girl rings us up. I’m already pulling out my card, and I decide I’m going to distract him so I can pay. “I thought you said pepperoni?”
“That’s when they have it ready.” He has an amused expression curling his lips. “Don’t like pineapple?”
“I do. I was worried it would freak you out.” I hand my card to the girl, and his smile drops.
“Waylynn.” His tone is a warning.
“Memphis,” I reply, but I add a little extra sweetness to my tone. His eyes narrow, and I see him reach for his pocket. I lean a little closer and keep my voice below a whisper so no one else can hear me and add, “Please, sir.” I almost lose my nerve to say it at all, but I’m so glad I didn’t, because his stunned, silent reaction is so worth it.
