are drawn up tight as he waits for me to respond. I see a half-wild look in his gaze, hope mixed with tension and strain.
“Tell me what you need, please, just tell me and I’ll do it. I want us to be right.”
And I know.
I know.
He adores me. He has the whole time. The anxiousness of his face slays me. He’s needed me next to him all this time while we were apart, and I let him go, I walked away from him because I was scared I was letting him too close. But not anymore. Love doesn’t work if you don’t commit to it fully, taking the bad with the good. Love doesn’t work if two people aren’t willing to give and take. I should have given him a chance that night. I should have listened. And in the end, I’m not like my mama, I’m not. She made a bad choice, but Z is not a bad choice. He’s opened himself up to me and shown me parts of himself that no one knows about. He chose me and it had nothing to do with Willow.
“What?” he says. “You have a funny look on your face.”
“I’m just thinking about the day you taught me to ice skate—or tried to, however you want to look at it. You told me to not be afraid to fall, and I’m not. I’m all in with you.” I rub my hand across his jaw and my fingers feel the pulse between us. “I love you so much, Z. I don’t want to ever be apart from you again.”
He exhales and his eyes close briefly, a long deep breath coming from his chest, one he seemed to have been holding since we woke up. “You, Sugar Rae Ryan. Always you.”
I kiss him.
After renting a Suburban on Z’s dime because he insisted, we begin our three-hour drive to Davenport. He’s got one hand laced with mine and he can’t stop looking at me, his gaze taking me in appreciatively, and I have to tell him to watch the road.
I laugh at the giddiness in my heart, at the smell of springtime in the air, at the feeling of hope in my chest.
I check my lipstick in the mirror.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes drift over my flowy white skirt and the fitted black shirt with a white pearl-lined Peter Pan collar. It’s a little understated but classy. To make it pop, I splurged on a pair of leopard print heels that Taylor found for me.
I cross my legs, and he looks at them and grins. “Feeling tense, Miss Ryan? I can make all that go away.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Keep your eyes on the road, hockey player.”
“I can pull over if you want. Don’t we have an hour to spare?” He sends me a pleading look, the mere flash of his smile enough to make my pulse flare.
“We do,” I murmur then reach over and kiss down his neck, my fingers toying with the buttons on a dress shirt he grabbed at the airport. It’s pale blue and a little tight across the shoulders, and I wonder if I just pulled on that one button—
He turns off the main road, taking us down about a mile on a tiny gravel road. He throws the car in park, takes off his seat belt, cups my face, and lays one on me. Our lips cling and cling and his tongue is taking and sucking and wanting everything. My hands slide into his hair and pull on the strands as he groans.
In between kisses, he murmurs, “I want to fuck you in this car. Now. Can you please push that skirt up and get in my lap? I’m not sure how it will work, but I’m willing to see.”
“Do you have Super Dick?” I ask him with a little laugh, and he glances down at his tented jeans.
“Uh, yeah. He wants you. I want you.”
“How fast can we do this?” I’m asking as I check around us. It’s quiet out, a two-lane road, just forest and telephone lines.
“Fast, but you will come.” A squirrel darts out onto the gravel road we’re on, gives us a glare, and dashes off. “He’s the only one out here,” Z murmurs as his hand drifts under my hair. “Come on, Sugar Baby, get over here and ride me.”
I snort-laugh; I can’t help it. “Sugar Baby?” I shake my head. “You know what? I’ll take it. I kinda like it. It’s not babe,