“Then again, it might have just been a mosquito.” I slapped the side of my neck. “Damn summer. It’s hot as balls out here.”
“Try sleeping in the camper. I had to take off my bra and—” She noticed the gleam in my eyes and propped her hands on her hips. “Watch yourself or I’ll measure you while you’re sleeping for your Christmas gift.”
I yanked her against me once more. “Maybe it’s better if you give me room to…grow.“
She laughed helplessly. “I have so much to tell you, and now I’m thinking about your dick.”
Lightly, I rubbed against her. “I can assure you the admiration is mutual.”
“It’s about my art. I’ve been working on this comic.” She grinned. “And it’s kinda exciting.”
All at once, I forgot my libido. “Tell me. Now.”
She dragged me forward a few feet and glanced at the Airstream where her mother and a man I assumed to be Brock were now quite enthusiastically making out in the wide front seats. “Let me just get my stuff. Really, really fast.”
“You’re honestly ready to come home?”
“Dude, so much. Besides, I have to yell at you for scaring me senseless. I’m way overdue.”
Grinning, I smacked her perfect ass as she turned back toward the Airstream. “Yes, you’re egregiously late for that, Miss Moon.”
First Closing Argument
I brought my tea mug with me to look out at the endless green of Preston’s property. I couldn’t say it was a hardship for the nights I stayed over—which, to be honest, was most nights.
PMS was very persuasive when it came to finding ways to get me out of my dresses each evening. And yoga pants. And my favorite boxer shorts I’d started stealing.
Non-worn ones, thanks. I didn’t need man funk on my lady parts. There was a distinct difference between getting wild and naked and borrowing someone’s underwear.
However, in his very Preston way, he had backup packs in his handy dandy accessory panel. You know, the kind that only rich people had. I was a sucker for hidden spaces of any kind and when I’d been snooping—sue me—I’d found his boxer stash.
Now my stash.
Which I was wearing right now with the dress shirt I’d stolen off the chair in his bedroom. I’d had to roll up the sleeves like crazy because his arms were ridiculously long, but I was officially a fan of the richie rich finery from his closet.
I wouldn’t tell him that of course.
And to be truthful, I really liked his long arms. Especially when he decided to do his workouts with his new rowing machine.
Hello.
Watching him do that full row with all the muscles moving and shifting under his tanned skin? Yeah, sign me up for that daily workout. Well, to watch it anyway.
Then again, he definitely enjoyed my yoga workouts. However, he wasn’t exactly the bendiest guy in that regard. He’d tried hard to do some beginner poses, but in the end, we decided to play to our strengths.
It didn’t stop him from setting up half of his workout room with yoga supplies for me. In fact, he kept doing little things that made my heart turn over.
Smoky leaped onto the kitchen table by the window.
“Well, hey there. PMS is going to freak if he sees you on the table.” But I simply stroked a hand down his smooth fur. His motorboat of a purr rolled out and made me smile. He went onto his back legs and waved his paw at me.
“Shameless.” But I leaned down so he could leap on my shoulder, his favorite place to be. He settled into the crook of my neck and butted his head against my jaw. Little devil. I scratched under his chin and fixed the pile of papers he’d scattered.
I paused as I realized it was my contract, the one that had a whole lot of red pen marks in Preston’s slashing handwriting. Penn Masterson had sent it over the other day after he got my first batch of sketches.
Sylvia and Roz officially had a new roommate—Smoky, the tripod cat.
Our cat was a budding comic star. I rubbed my cheek against the purring furbaby, already snoozing on me.