I stand up to pour another drink. He’s making me nervous. “The Super Bowl already happened.” I indicate the box of donuts on the desk. “If you don’t want a drink, how about a donut?” Food fixes everything.
“I’m not here for a donut.”
He levels his gaze at me.
The tension ratchets up in the room, and I clear my throat and make my way over to the Post-its. I grab one and thrust it toward him. “Read this one.”
“Dear Future Boyfriend, I love that you didn’t freak out when you found my secret wedding board on Pinterest.” A slow grin curls his lips. “Trying to scare me?”
I blink up at him, fluttering my lashes, deepening my Southern accent. “Well, I declare, isn’t that what every girl dreams of, a big wedding outside in a garden with her big, strong, hockey-playing college sweetheart?”
He bites his lower lip. “Keep talking like that and you might be able to talk me into a pretend wedding.”
I place my hand over my heart. “Bless your heart, I have more sayins’ if you wanna hear ’em.”
He rubs his jaw. “Verging on redneck. It’s only good when you talk about how hot I am.”
I roll my eyes at him and grin. I like him so much. He gets my goofiness.
He’s moved closer to the TV. “This is that dragon show everyone talks about…” He kicks off his shoes and plops down on my bed, leaning back against my pillows. “You’re a fan?”
I nod. “Duh. It’s got giant wolves, dragons, zombies, and tons of blood and sex.” I sigh softly. “There’s this one battle called the Battle of the Bastards where Jon Snow retakes Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton, who also killed one of his brothers right in front of him and also cut the balls off…” I stop, not wanting to spoil it for a Game of Thrones virgin. “It’s pretty much perfect.”
“You’re more bloodthirsty than I realized. I like this side of you.” He pats the mattress, wanting me to join him. “You need to educate me.”
I arch a brow. “You wanna watch?”
“You said blood and gore and sex. Toss in a dragon and I’m all yours.”
I laugh and ease in next to him. “The guy with the dark hair, he’s about to—shit, I can’t tell you. If you want to be a Game of Thrones fan, you have to start from the beginning. You have to know everyone’s backstory and why they do what they do.” I give him a look. “You can’t just start in the middle.”
“Ah, sometimes the middle works out.” His lips curve up as he gazes at me, and his eyes are on my chest, lingering before coming up.
I restart the series at season one, episode one.
“Let us begin,” he says softly.
I swallow, feeling the warmth of his bicep as it brushes against me. “Begin what?”
“The show. What else?” There’s an amused glint in his gaze until he gets serious. He toys with a piece of my hair. “Sugar, I’m sorry for being a total jerk. In case you haven’t noticed, I tend to like control. When I don’t have it, I might say something shitty, but I’m the first to admit when I’m wrong and I’ll apologize for it.”
“Okay.”
And that’s it. I let it go.
I nod and turn to watch as the episode starts. I explain some about the author and the rabid fan base that has made the show popular.
He’s watching my mouth and I elbow him. “Are you listening to me?”
He blinks and looks back at the TV screen. “Totally.”
With a heavy sigh, I settle in, leaning against his shoulder.
22
Zack
I stare down at a softly snoring Sugar as the credits roll up. Her head is turned at an angle as it rests on my shoulder, and there’s a small piece of sugar from a donut at the corner of her mouth.
I lean down and lick it off, and she shifts against me, the skin of her arms soft as she moves, curling them around my bicep and then snaking up around my neck. As if she’s done it before, her fingers toy with the strands of my hair, twisting them around her fingers.
Pulling on my hair is a siren’s call.
She says my name under her breath, her lids fluttering as she sleeps, and I know she’s dreaming about me.
She moans, her leg easing out from under the blanket we grabbed earlier.
She’s so gorgeous, all soft and pliant, but I didn’t come here for that.
“This is the most agreeable I’ve ever seen you,” I say in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake her yet needing to talk to her. I feel entirely content and happy right now, and I’m not sure that’s happened in a really long time.
She mumbles something, and a little frown knits her brow. I hold back a laugh. She’s probably going off on me in her dream. Don’t call me babe.
I won’t, and maybe, just maybe, I can get her to go out with me—for real, not any of this pretend bullshit.
I shift so the arm she’s lying on slides more fully around her.
She sighs when I lean down to smell her hair.
Another mumble and then she chuckles—actually laughs.
“What are you snickering about, sleep talker?” I ask her.
“Take off your shirt.” Her hands tangle in my hair. “I want to see your dragon tattoo.”
“Your wish is my command,” I say, easing her out of the way to lift my tight black running shirt off over my head.
Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”
I shrug. “You ordered me to take my shirt off. Happy to oblige.”
She straightens herself, scooting her bottom up until our faces are closer. “I did? I must have been half asleep.”
“Just following orders.”
“Oh,” she says as she pats at her hair and throws a glance around the room, squinting as she takes in the time on the desk clock.
“It’s three in the morning. I watched a few episodes of that crazy-ass show. There are some sick characters. I like it,” I say, tossing my shirt on the floor and turning back to her wide gaze. “Feels as if we’re the only people alive in the world right now.”
Her blue eyes are on my chest and before I know it, her hand is there, tracing the lines of my tattoo, brushing soft strokes along the outline, trailing down to my bicep where the tail curls around my upper arm.
“That feels good,” I murmur.
“It’s the most beautiful dragon I’ve seen on skin. I love the orange and red flames and his scales. Tell me the story of the tattoo,” she says. “You promised.”
“You like tattoos?”
She nods, blushing. “I have a lily inside a cameo on my back—for my mom. Lily was her name.”
“I never saw it.”
“We haven’t actually been completely naked together.” She brushes her fingers across the red and yellow fire that comes from the dragon’s mouth, and I hold back the shudder inside me. My hands clench on the sheets, keeping myself from jumping on top of her.
Fuck.
I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth.
“Let me make you come again and I’ll tell you all about my dragon.”
Her chest rises as she inhales quickly. She licks her wine-colored lips, and I lean down and nip at them.
She gasps into my mouth and it’s the opening I need, delving into her hot, wet depths, my tongue vying with hers.
“Z,” she moans, her hands pulling me closer. She gives back as good as I give and I go from a soft kiss to full-on fucking her with my tongue.
“Why can’t we stop doing this?” she moans.
“Why do you want to stop?”
“I don’t—that’s the problem.”
“I want you so much,” I say breathily as I nip and kiss down her throat before moving her jacket aside, slipping my tongue under the straps of her tank top, and licking her skin. There’s a small mole next to her breast and I kiss it and inhale her scent, committing it to memory.
“Tell me about the tattoo,” she says, and I laugh as I take her nipple in my mouth and suck. It’s still swollen from earlier, and I’m gentle, nibbling with my teeth and then soothing it by flicking it with my tongue.
“Please, Z,” she murmurs, and I can barely breathe, let alone talk, but I do my best as my hands strip her out of her jacket. Pushing the neckline of her tank top under her boobs, I groan. She arranges her hair around her tits and gazes up at me, biting that lower lip. I can’t even think straight. She’s…she’s got me in the palm of her hand and she doesn’t even know it.
I lean over and kiss her stomach, my tongue dipping inside her belly button as I toy with her piercing, laving it with attention. “Freshman year, I got the tattoo in Minneapolis.” I kiss her hipbone and her birthmark, sucking on her skin. “As it happened…I needed some courage that year…hope, maybe. I didn’t believe in much. I lost a lot, my mom and someone else I cared about.”
I grow tense at the thought of Willow, but I push it aside. It’s a conversation for another time, another place. Not here. Not now.
“Oh.” She breathes out.
My fingers play with the lace on her underwear, dipping one finger in and then coming back out. She gyrates against my hand, trying to get me to touch her again, but I hold back, plucking at the hem of her panties.
“He’s very fierce…your dragon,” she says, gazing down at me.