Doing It for Love(9)

"I've been too afraid to say it," he admitted with a small smile. "But I've been saying it to you for a long time now."

I remember my heart pounding, my sleepy smile widening. And I squeezed back, saying, "I've been saying 'I love you too' for a long time now."

It's been our silent expression ever since. So when we're in a crowded room, half asleep, or arguing, whenever he squeezes my hand twice I know he still loves me. I've always squeezed back.

I blink out of my daze, rubbing my hands under the shower stream. The paint mixture pours off my skin down to the drain, and I keep giving myself extra squeezes, imagining Landon's hands around mine. Thank heavens I had the good sense to shower at Theresa's. His wet body is tempting a few doors down; I can't imagine what a hormonal mess I'd be if we washed off together.

After rinsing the neon from my nooks and crannies, I shut the shower off and grab at a ratty towel Theresa keeps under her sink. Her counter is completely cluttered with hair products, makeup, and perfumes. Long brown hair covers the floor, and I towel-dry my head, adding blond strands to the pile.



       
         
       
        

Landon takes longer showers than I do, so I take my time getting dressed, borrowing some of Theresa's pajamas. She's still at the club, probably completely wasted by now. She was maintaining a balanced buzz when I left, but that was an hour ago. I asked Jace to make sure she got a cab. Hopefully, he stays coherent enough to listen.

I make her bed because it drives me crazy that the comforter is hanging off the edge and the sheet is matted at the bottom. Just as I'm fluffing her pillows, I hear a key struggling to get in the lock.

Theresa giggles as the door creaks open. I tuck my phone in my back pocket with a laugh, ready to put her to bed and set some Advil on the nightstand for her in the morning, but a crash, thud, and low grunt stops me in the bedroom doorway.

My eyes bug out, staring at the hallway pictures, when I hear her say, "I want you in me."

"Theresa," a male voice answers. I think I know that voice. "You're drunk."

"Yep." She attempts to purr. "Take advantage, because this won't happen when I'm sober."

Something shuffles across the floor, and I dive for the closet. I should've known she was going to bring someone home. Theresa has more bedpost notches than I'd like to know about.

As soon as I've confirmed "male voice" is long gone I'll slide out. Unless he tries to take advantage while she's passed out. Then I'll grab a wire hanger and slice off his man jewels.

I keep the door open a crack, but I don't catch anything but two very painted figures. The one covered in bright blue takes the towel I used and spreads it across the bed, fumbling with holding Theresa up at the same time. He finally huffs in defeat and ends up dropping her to the mattress.

"Wait," she says.

"What?"

"It feels good. You on top of me."

Oh, sweet mother. I hear kissing. Lots of it. And breathing and groaning, and as close as I am with the girl, I do not want to hear her drunken sex noises.

"Theresa … " Male Voice groans. He says something else, and I start singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" under my breath, hoping to drown out the sloppy kissing sounds.

Slurp.

Went up the waterspout.

Thump.

Down came the rain.

Mmmmm.

And washed the spider out.

"Take them off."

"Theresa … ," Male Voice says again.

"Stay," she mumbles. I hear a zipper, and I reach for a hanger.

"You need … you need to sleep," he argues back. I shoot upright, peeking out the crack because it's clicked. I know who that voice belongs to.

He tucks another towel around her, and by the light snoring I know she's passed out. I drop the hanger, knowing she won't be fondled in her sleep with present company. I notice him tucking her pink stained hair behind her ear, looking at her like I've only seen Landon look at me. A small tug at the corner of his lips looks like both a smile and a frown. Like he's gaining and losing something. It seems such a private moment I duck back into the closet. I'll just wait till he leaves, but who knows how long that'll be. So I take my phone out, make sure it's on complete silent mode, and tap a text to Landon before my battery dies. 

Theresa's drunk. Might be a bit before I get back to you.



Landon responds so fast it's like he had the joke saved on his phone.

Don't get too friendly with the showerhead.

I am NOT a cheater, I tap back. Besides, I don't need it ;)

Liar. I was sexy as hell tonight.

Not as sexy as me.

You are tough competition. But I look better in pink.



He sends me a picture of the two of us in the middle of our paint fight. I grin at the fact that he's more covered than I am.

Who took that?

You were tagged on Facebook.



I raise my eyebrow and turn on my Wi-Fi. But before I can jump over to Facebook, my screen goes blank as my battery quits. Damn it. I just hope people had the sense not to announce my engagement yet.

Letting out a very bored sigh, I wiggle around the closet, shaking my head at the disorganization in here. Theresa needs to start putting her autumn clothes up front. It's almost September, so I move the sundresses to the back of the walk-in and hang the cardigans up by color near the front. After that I slouch to the floor and rearrange her shoes. None of the pairs are together, just sort of tossed in. No wonder she's always late.

After I've straightened every inch of her closet-she'll pitch a fit about it, but I know she'll secretly be grateful-I peer through the crack and let out a relieved sigh. Just Theresa, sound asleep with her mouth open and her painted hair stuck to the pillow.

I tiptoe across the carpet, startle at the shape on Theresa's towel-covered couch, but he too is asleep, mouth wide open and painted hair mashed into a rolled towel. I allow myself a silent laugh, because I never ever considered these two together. Now it's all I can think about.

Holding my breath, I slowly twist the doorknob and sneak into the hallway. Once it's clicked shut I allow myself to breathe and race to my own door twenty feet down.

Landon's leaning against our card table, laptop open, glasses sliding down his nose as he taps away. He's got several windows open-movie footage, an Excel spreadsheet, iTunes, and an editing program. I smell his body wash and shampoo, and I absolutely love that fresh manly smell. Setting down my phone, I sneak up behind him and put my head on his shoulder.

"Bedtime," I say. If I don't, he'll be up all night editing.

"Five more minutes."

"Now, mister."

He saves everything and shuts the laptop, encasing us in darkness. But I can still see the reflection of the moon in his glasses.

"Did you have fun?" he asks, taking my hand and leading us to the bedroom.

"Mmhmm. Can I have my ring back now?"

He nods and tucks me into our bed. He sets his glasses in their case, and when we get snuggled under the covers he pulls the ring from his wallet and reaches for my hand. It takes him one, two, three shots to finally get it on the right finger in the dark. I'm laughing at him when it slides into place.

"I'm blind. Give me a break."

His body molds to mine, his belly button to the small of my back, leg tucked between my calves, chest pressed against my spine, and hot breath spreading on my neck. My heart thumps unevenly as he laces our fingers together and sets our hands on my hip.



       
         
       
        

I'm so tired I feel like I could sink through the mattress and stay there forever. But Landon's lips start to graze over my neck, sending goose bumps up and down my sides. My grip tightens on his hand, and I press my knees together, trapping his leg. I feel his teeth against my skin when he smiles. Damn him.

I wiggle to the very edge of the bed, but like a smart-ass he follows. The scruff on his chin is driving me wild, and as tired as I was five seconds ago, that's how not tired I am now.

"Lizzie?" he says in a deep voice. His sex voice. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I'm immune to his charm.

He pulls on my pajama top, uncovering my shoulder. He presses a warm kiss there. "You called me your fiancé tonight."

"You bet your sweet ass I did."

"I liked it."

"Fiancé," I say in a seductive lilt. His kisses trail across my shoulder and neck. I take a deep breath and lift my shoulder, cutting him off.

"You knock that off."

"What?" he says, running his fingers over my arm. He squeezes my elbow twice.

I reach back and squeeze his thigh.

Oh, how easy it is to thwart Elizabeth Fanning when you have muscles like Landon Wangford. How can I forget how much I love the tone of his legs, the feel of his boxer shorts, the manly hair sprouting from his skin? I snatch my hand away before it squeezes his ass-his perfect ass-and before I dip my hand under his waistband, I dig my nails into his toned-as-hell flesh, let him thrust up against me, feeling just how hard he gets because of me.

Seriously … it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since our bet and I'm ready to change my mind. I'm kind of relieved it's proving to be difficult to keep my hands off him. After four years and the quickies and the meh times, I thought we'd lost that spark, but my screaming lady parts say otherwise.