“Everything.”
“Us, isn’t it?” he guesses.
I nod.
He sighs and pushes himself off the concrete wall we’re seated on. His long legs carry him back and forth and back again as he paces, hands on his hips, a frown slashed across his mouth. “We’re at a real fucked-up crossroads, aren’t we?”
“We’re screwed, and not just literally.”
He coughs out a laugh but continues pacing. “Good one, but yes, we are—though I think if we’re creative enough, we can make this work.”
“Should it really have to be that hard though? Should we have the need to be ‘creative’ to enjoy our relationship?”
Robbie grins at me as he does another pass. “I like it when you call it a relationship, makes me all mushy and shit on the inside.”
“Stop making me laugh. I’m being serious. This is serious.”
“I know, Monty. I know it is. We can make this good though. It’s gonna be hard, in more than one area”—he throws me a wink—“but it will be worth it. Put the work in now, enjoy the results later.”
“Later as in end of the school year later? As in about ten months from now later?”
“Yeah, that later.”
“You planning a future with me, Robbie?”
In a flash he’s right in front of me, his hands cradling my face and pulling me toward him. His face is hard, eyes serious. He’s holding on tight, like he desperately needs me to listen to him.
“Damn fucking straight.”
He smashes his mouth to mine and a tremor rattles through me. I was not expecting the weight that slams down on me.
It’s heavy, but not in a bad way.
It’s good—really good.
“You’re not giving up before we even really get started, are you, Monty?” he asks, his forehead resting against mine, his breath coming in short gasps.
I swallow and shake my head. “No.”
“Good.”
He takes my mouth again, and somehow, it’s so much more than it was before.
That weight? It was nothing, not compared to this.
I’m falling for him.
Hard and fast, it’s happening, and I don’t want to stop it.
A whimper escapes when he begins to pull away, and he laughs breathlessly against me. “I can’t keep kissing you like this in public.”
“Yes you can,” I tell him.
“Do you want me to strip you naked in front of that family over there? That wouldn’t be very appropriate for a teacher to do.”
“That wouldn’t be very appropriate for anyone to do.”
“Eh, we’ll agree to disagree on that one.” He gives me another chaste kiss before pulling away and grabbing my hand, lifting me from the wall too. “Dance with me.”
“I am not dancing with you in the middle of the street.”
“Sure ya are.”
He tugs me along, dragging me out into the center of the boardwalk. You’d think on a Sunday night this place would be dead, but the weather is perfect and there’s no way anyone could pass up being out tonight.
There’s a man busking on the street corner across the way. His croon carries over the crowd, and everyone within earshot is mesmerized.
We’re in the middle of the crowd when Robbie drops my hand.
“Stay. I’ll be right back.”
He crosses the street to the performer, whispers something in his ear, and drops a bill in his guitar case. The performer laughs as he shakes his head, then they bump fists.
My eyes follow Robbie’s strides as he makes his way back through the crowd, a secretive smile on his face the whole time. He curls his arm around my waist and drags me toward him when he reaches me.
“Let’s dance.”
“There’s no music.”
“There will be in just a moment.”
“What’d you do?”
His lips twitch as he fights a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Just then, the crooner begins to pluck away at his guitar, producing the familiar riff of I Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher.
“Cher? Really?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I know you have a huge crush on her.”
I laugh and snuggle in closer to him as we sway to the music. We’re not far into the already short song when his hands begin to wander, slipping his palms into my back pockets, cupping my rear end.
I shake my head at his advances. “I think this would be deemed inappropriate too.”
“Would it though?” he tries to reason.
“Yes.”
“What a shame.”
He pulls me closer, using only his hands on my rear, just as the song ends. The singer moves seamlessly into his next number, Can’t Help Falling in Love.
If Robbie feels me stiffen in his arms, he doesn’t show any sign of it.
“Did you…” I lick at my dry lips, trying again. “Did you ask him to play this?”
“No,” he says quietly in my ear.
But I don’t believe him.
There’s something in his voice…it’s different, not as sure and sturdy as it usually is.
I want to tell him it’s okay, that I’m feeling it too, but I’m too scared.
Besides, I don’t want to read too far into things. I can’t read too far into things, not with the current state of our relationship, how it hangs so closely to the edge of destruction.
He squeezes me closer and I try my best to focus on right now.
Us.
The musician plays another song, this one a little more upbeat than the last, but we don’t let each other go. It’s like we’re glued together and there’s nothing coming between us.
The dark, spicy scent of his cologne fills my senses, and I can’t help but nuzzle into him more.
He chuckles. “Are you smelling me?”
“No.”
“Fibber.”
“Am not.” I take another whiff. “Okay, maybe I am. You smell so good though—like, so good. Clean, fresh.”
“You’re welcome for showering,” he teases.
That dull, achy need I always feel between my legs when Robbie is near begins to grow. Our closeness, my lips still stinging from his earlier kisses, his hands on my butt…I can’t take this anymore.
I dart my eyes around the crowd, looking for a place for us to be alone.
“I have an idea.” My words come out rushed, excited.
He pulls back and grins down at me. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to do something very naughty to me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I grab his hand and pull him through the crowd, moving purely on adrenaline and need because there’s no way I’d typically be doing this.
There’s a lone photo booth sitting at the edge of the crowd, and I’m certain no one will notice if we slip inside.
“We are not doing a photo booth. It’s so juvenile and cutesy. I’m not doing that shit,” he says when we approach it.
“We are doing this. Get in.”
He lets out a frustrated groan as I push him inside.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he reaches into his back pocket and retrieves his wallet.
He pulls two bills from inside and inserts them into the machine. “Um, it’s a photo booth—they require money to work.”
“That is not what I had in mind.”
I swing my leg over him and climb onto his lap.
“Oh,” he says with surprise, his hands landing on my hips. “I like this. This I can get on board with.”
“Good. Now kiss me.”
The rush of power my words give me has me slamming my mouth down on his. He laughs at my ferocity and takes over, working his mouth against mine with the finesse I’ve only ever experienced with him.
His hands dive into my hair, pulling at it with just the right amount of pressure. He holds me close as he works my lips
apart, tasting and teasing me with his tongue.
The heat of the kiss becomes too much, and I don’t know about him, but I am dying for a release.
“You have to touch me,” I whisper to him.
“Why’d we have to bring the bike? Bikes are lame. Jeans are lame. I miss your skirts so I can just slide my hand up them.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“I am the worst.” He pushes my jacket off my shoulders. “But I can work with this.”
The light material falls from my body, landing on the floor of the booth, and I don’t even care that it’s probably disgusting and dirty down there.
Robbie is about to set my body on fire, and I can’t wait to feel the flame.
I’m suddenly so thankful I wore my off-the-shoulder top as he tugs the material down.
“Another white one—go figure.”
“Stop it. You know I’m boring.”
“I like that you’re boring,” he says, his attention solely focused on my breast as he pulls the cups of my bra down, my bare chest now on display. “I also like the way you taste.”
He closes his mouth over my nipple and I try my very best not to moan too loudly at the contact. I hold his head close as he works his lips over me, giving the occasional nip that sends a zing straight to my core.
“Why did I have to wear jeans?” I murmur.
“Touch yourself,” he says against me.
“What? I-I can’t do that!”
He lets my nipple slide from his mouth, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud as he goes. His eyes are glazed over with lust as he stares up at me.
Without breaking contact, he unsnaps my jeans. “Put your hand in your pants.”
“No!”
“Monty, put your hand in your goddamn pants or I will rip these sexy-as-sin jeans from your body, turn you around, and fuck you loud and hard in this goddamn photo booth. We’re bound to make a scene. Your choice.”
Oh my.
His words spur my movements and I do as he instructs, sliding my hand into my jeans. The first contact is bittersweet, my swollen clit so sensitive it almost hurts because it feels so good.
He works his hand between us, his thumb pressing against mine. I let out a low moan when he begins moving us in slow circles.
“Th-That’s nice.”
He gives me a deep, throaty laugh. “I know.”
When he removes his hand from mine, I halt all movements.
“Don’t stop, Monty. Keep going. Take yourself there.”
“I…o-okay.”
I slam my eyes closed as embarrassment washes over me. I’m so terrified to be doing something so intimate in front of him. This is the most naked I’ve ever been while still wearing all my clothes.
Eyes still closed and fingers still on my clit, Robbie begins to shuffle around, and I hear the familiar hiss of a zipper.
The sound of flesh working against flesh fills the small space, the noise of the crowd growing louder outside as the street musician continues rocking out a rhythm.
My fingers play a beat against my own body, matching whatever song it is he’s playing.
Robbie’s warm mouth clamps over my nipple again and I explode.
Bright lights flash behind my eyelids and I swear I’m seeing those fireworks everyone talks about in this very moment.
I slow my movements but don’t completely slide my hand from my pants, still enjoying the last of the zings racing through me too much to quit now. That euphoric floating feeling takes hold and I want to sink into its warmth, stay there forever.
The sound of Robbie still working himself over calls to me and I open my eyes. My gaze automatically drops down, watching as he strains against his own touch.
I can’t take my eyes off his movements. They’re steady and sure and hurried all at once. Watching him touch himself causes that familiar stir to strike again, and I can’t help it when my fingers begin to move over my aching clit.
“Jacket.”
“You are jacking it,” I say back, still watching as he strokes his hard length.
He laughs huskily and gives me his classic prayer before grunting and emptying himself all over the front of me.
I can’t even be mad. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
His head is thrown back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
Robbie is a beautiful creature on his own.
Robbie coming? It’s breathtaking.
He sags against the booth and I fall against him, exhausted.
“Get off me, you’re a mess.”
“You’re the one who made me dirty.”
“I like it when you get dirty,” he murmurs quietly in my ear. “Getting you dirty is my favorite thing to do.”
“You’re a horrible influence on me, Robbie. I would have never done this before you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes, but it’s also the best thing. You’re…” I blow out a shaky breath. “You’re that thing I never knew I wanted until I had it. You’re fun and adventure and temptation all wrapped into one, and I want to give in to you so badly.”
We both know I’m talking about so much more than what’s at the surface of my words.
I’m not just talking about giving in to the impulses he awakens in me.
I’m talking about giving in to what he makes me feel.
Love.
“Then give in.”
The words.
Hushed.
Whispered.
Pleaded.
“I already have.”
Twenty-Three
Robbie
She didn’t have to say it.
I know.
I know because I feel the exact same way, which is real fucking crazy when you think about.
There are so many logical reasons why we shouldn’t be falling in love, but love isn’t logical, is it?
Her breasts are heavy in my hands as I pull the cups of her bra over her exposed chest. It kills me to cover such a beautiful sight, and I want nothing more than to strip her completely naked and fuck her into tomorrow, but we’ve already pushed our luck enough.
We’re damn fortunate no one pulled back that curtain and caught us.
She works her shirt up over her arms and snaps her jeans closed as I tuck my half-hard dick away. I reach down and grab her jacket, passing it to her.
“You might wanna use this to hold in front of that mess you caused. I have a spare shirt in my saddlebag that you can put on once we get back to the parking garage.”
She glowers at the mention of the mess, but there’s no malice behind her stare, having loved every minute spent in this booth just as much as I did.
Monty pushes off my lap, standing as best she can in the crowded space. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“Me?” I slap at her ass when she steps from the booth, laughing as I follow behind her. “You’re the one who was all, ‘Oh, baby, take me into the photo booth, baby. I wanna do something naughty.’”
Walking backward, she points at me with a grin. “I have never and will never talk like that.”
“A man can dream.” I wink.
She shakes her head and spins around, running smack into a passerby.
“Oof!”
I rush to her side, glaring at the careless moron who just nearly knocked her over.
He grabs hold of her shoulders, steadying her, and I want to rip his stupid fucking hands off.
“Miss Andrews? Is that you?”
That voice…I know it.
Monty smiles up at the guy. “Brandon, hi. Funny running into you here.”
“I was out for a bite at TacoWay. They’re darn hard to track down, but they have the best tacos in the city.”
I try really fucking hard to not roll my eyes when he says darn and not damn. Give me a break.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks.
My girl would make a horrible spy; she can’
t stop herself from glancing back at me.
Douchebag notices.
I see the spark of familiarity in his gaze as our eyes connect.
“I was out doing the same thing. I heard from a, uh, friend how good they were and decided to check it out.”
He points in the opposite direction. “The truck is that way if you’re lost.”
“Oh, no. I already had some. I was…um…I was in the photo booth.”
His eyes dart that way, then briefly to me again before he returns his attention to her. Fucker is observant. I see it as he rakes his eyes over Monty, noting her messy hair and off-kilter clothing.
We both know nothing is ever out of place with her appearance.
He knows what she meant to say was we were in the photo booth.
“Oh yeah? Wanna get a picture together?”
“No!” she shouts too loudly and too quickly. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I mean, no. It’s not working. It’s broken. I tried.”
“Ah, well, what a shame. I bet we could have some fun in there.”
My fists curl at my sides, and I want to deck the smarmy fucker. I’m not one for violence, but if he makes one more flirtatious comment to my girl, it’s on.
“Well, I better get going, Brandon. It was great running into you, but I have to get home and get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I understand. Can you let me walk you to your car? I’d be a jerk not to offer.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Monty.” He says her name like he fucking knows her, and it makes me want to scream. “You can’t walk out here on your own.”
She shakes her head. “I won’t be. My friend is just using the restroom and will be back any moment.”
Smart.
“Good thing for your friend.” He nearly spits the last word from his lips, darting his eyes my way again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
So much hope in his voice, so much inflection, like his words mean more than they actually do. I want to march over there, grab the prick by his collar, and give him a good shake to remind him that woman he’s trying so desperately to pick up is mine.
“Yep. See you tomorrow,” Monty agrees.
He reaches out and gives her shoulder a squeeze, and I nearly let my feet carry me his way at the contact.
“Good night, Monty.”
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