A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,120
from the champagne I’ve drunk tonight. “And why’s that?”
He brushes his knuckles along my jaw. “Because you look happy.”
“Of course I am.”
“Yeah?” There’s the slightest bit of nerves in his voice, like the night at the club in London when we danced and he asked if I minded dancing in public.
“Why do you ask? Do you really wonder if I am?”
Briefly, he nuzzles my neck, then pulls back. “I just like to make sure.”
I loop a hand around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. “I am very, very happy.”
“It’s a good look on you,” Fitz says.
“Keep putting it there,” I say, before I realize the double entendre. But I bet he’ll pick up on it in three, two, one . . .
“I will. I promise. Always.” Then he brings his mouth to my ear. “Also, I’ll keep putting it everywhere.” And he pushes his pelvis against me.
I crack up. “I knew it. I was counting down in my head. I fucking knew you’d be unable to resist that.”
“How can I resist when you make it so easy?” He runs his hand around the back of my neck, an appreciative rumble in his throat as he hauls me close. The two of us, we’ve never been good at keeping our hands off each other. “Speaking of easy . . .”
“Are you trying to cop a feel again?”
Fitz shakes his head. “Just trying to kiss the groom one more time.”
“Let me help you, then.”
I grab his face and bring his lips to mine, kissing him for the hundredth time today.
I close my eyes and savor every second of my mouth on his. My tongue sliding between his lips, the hunger in our kiss, the way it makes my head hazy and my chest hot.
Mostly, how it never gets old.
Which is why I should stop.
I set my hand on his chest, gently breaking the contact.
He pouts. “I’m so sad. Why’d you stop a hot wedding kiss, babe?”
“Because I like it too much. Always have.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a good thing. It’s a great thing.” I tip my forehead to the floor-to-ceiling windows that give a perfect view of all our guests inside the boathouse. “But it’s also a dangerous thing, since I suspect we’ll have to go back in there, and I don’t want to be wildly aroused the rest of the night.”
He glances downward toward his crotch. “That ship already sailed for me.”
I give him a serious look. “I have faith in you. You can soften.”
“You shouldn’t have any faith in that. Ever. I’m pretty much a lost cause the rest of the night. We could just skip out early . . .”
“Patience, Fitz. Patience. Good things come to those who wait.”
He growls. “Now I’m more turned on. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Then he shrugs his broad shoulders. “Whatever. I don’t care. As if they can’t all figure out I want to shag you,” he says, dipping into his English accent tool kit.
“Classy.”
“C’mon, Dean. It’s obvious. Anyone who looks at us is jealous.”
“Is that so?” I ask, loving his confidence, loving the way he talks about us, how he sees us, what we have. What we’re so damn lucky to have.
“Of course. We have it all. Love and sex. Sex and love. And all that goes with it. Happiness.” Fitz reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Have I told you how glad I am you moved here?”
He tells me that every day. And every day I say the same thing in return. I tell him that now too. “Best decision I ever made.”
He taps his chin. “Wait. Technically, wouldn’t the best decision you ever made be agreeing to a fling with me?”
I stare at the inky sky, filled with stars. “Hmm. Fair point. That was a good one too. Since, without it, you’d never have known I’d rock your world.”
“Exactly. So maybe that was your best decision. I think mine was walking into your bar.”
“Obviously,” I say, then my brow knits as my brain snags on a detail I’ve never asked him. Funny, that after nearly a year together, I never thought to ask him why. “By the way, why did you go to my bar that night? Was it just coincidence?”
Fitz grins. “You think it was fate, don’t you?”
I laugh. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Because you believe in facts and logic and pros and cons.”