A Little Bit Wicked - Melissa Foster Page 0,105

sweet cheeks?”

“Uh-huh” was all she could manage.

“I missed you tonight.” He touched his forehead to hers and said, “When I didn’t hear from you, I thought you needed some alone time.”

That misconception snapped her out of her drunk-on-Justin stupor. “I wanted to thank you for cleaning off the porch, and for the mason jar, and the romantic note. But I didn’t want to bother you at your meeting. I love that you saved some of our sand.”

“So we were both worried about smothering each other,” he said with a small smile.

“I think so, and I’m glad you didn’t hold back.”

“Does that mean I have permission to smother you?” he asked coyly as they headed up the walk.

“Smothering is such a negative word, unless you’re talking about hot fudge, of course. How about if we agree it’s okay to be crazy about each other and go with the flow, texting or seeing each other as often as we feel the urge? If one of us needs space, then we can speak up.”

“You’re opening a dangerous door, sexy girl,” he warned. “You know how I feel about you.”

She turned toward him on the porch and wrapped her arms around him, gazing up at his handsome face, and said, “I’ll take my chances.”

Chapter Eighteen

JUSTIN FELT CHLOE burrowing against his back, trying to hide from the cold, driving rain as he drove the motorcycle into her driveway early Sunday evening. They’d been out riding with the guys when the clouds had opened up, drenching them in minutes. They’d pulled over to wait it out, but it hadn’t let up. Chloe had deemed it their rainy adventure, and Justin had never driven so carefully in all his life.

Justin whipped off his helmet and helped Chloe from the bike. She hadn’t complained once about being soaking wet. She was amazing like that, and she’d been open to even more new things since they’d decided to let go of their worries about smothering each other and let nature take its course.

“Run!” she said through her helmet, taking his hand as they sprinted up the sidewalk. She took off her helmet on the porch, her teeth chattering as she said, “Hold me, hold me, hold me!” and buried her face in his chest.

He put his arms around her, kissing her head and running his hands up and down her back, trying to warm her, but cold air was whipping around them. “Let’s get you inside.”

She handed him the keys and he unlocked the door, ushering her inside. They’d been going back and forth between their houses, staying at whichever was more convenient at the time. He didn’t care where they were, as long as they were together. He closed the door behind them and took off his wet shirt. Chloe’s smile reached her eyes as she grabbed his face with both hands, went up on her toes, and kissed the hell out of him.

“Damn, baby. I ought to take you out in the rain more often.”

“I missed out on doing that the night of the storm. I wanted to so badly, but I was scared. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.”

“Neither am I.” He hauled her in for another kiss, and she melted against him. But as soon as their lips parted and she took off her boots, she was shivering again. “Go change into warm clothes, sweets. I’ll start a fire.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect. We can have a picnic by the fire. Want to cook something or order pizza?”

“How about a pizza and a scrapbook party? I want to see how you’ve changed through the years.”

“Yeah, right. You want to see if I have any hidden pictures of you.”

“Maybe that, too.” He gave her a quick kiss and swatted her butt. “Go change. I’ll start the fire and order pizza.”

She headed into the bedroom with a bounce in her step. That bounce was new, too, and man, he loved seeing her so happy. He went into the living room and began making the fire. Over the last few days he’d discovered just how organized Chloe was. The clothes in her closet were separated by type and style, her shoes were neatly lined up and separated by type and color. In the kitchen, glasses were on a separate shelf from mugs, and she didn’t have a typical junk drawer. All of her kitchen drawers had organizers. The dining room cabinet was full of scrapbooking supplies, labeled and meticulously organized by theme. Although right now the

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