He watched her body twitch.
And he stopped dead when she busted out laughing.
Fucking hell.
Fucking.
Hell.
He’d never seen her laugh.
It changed her. Entirely.
Gone was his cool, poised, exquisite princess.
Her laughter was soft, even delicate, like her voice, but it transformed her face, the line of her body.
She no longer was the cool-as-shit, hot-as-fuck piece of ass only a half percent of the male population would have the balls to approach because, even if the promise of her screamed it was worth the risk, every vibe she gave said you’d crash and burn.
In her place was the sweet-as-hell, hot-as-fuck piece of ass it wouldn’t matter if you crashed and burned because she’d lay that hurt on you like velvet and you’d end up with her number anyway because you were invited to hang with her posse to watch the game.
He still had that Livvie when he made it to her.
He pulled that Livvie into his arms.
She lifted her hands to either side of his neck, curled her fingers to hold on lightly, and still quietly laughing, she tipped her head back and caught his gaze.
“Hey,” she greeted, green eyes light and dancing.
Fuck, he was so fucking falling in love with her.
“Hey,” he grunted, feeling warmth and contentment, unease, frustration and impatience.
And he was feeling these last because he was pissed he had to sneak into her house from the alley. Pissed he had to have a man on her. Pissed he had to worry if she didn’t text back right away. And pissed he couldn’t put her ass in his car and take her out to dinner so he could show the whole fucking world the beauty he’d earned.
Her laughter faded, but this time he had himself to blame for the brevity of her happiness.
“Sebring, what is it?” she asked, studying him closely.
“We’re goin’ to Vegas.”
She blinked at him.
“Sorry?”
“Next weekend,” he stated. “Do what you gotta do. Sort that shit. But we’re flying to Vegas Friday night, stayin’ until Sunday. You and me somewhere we can fuck like we fuck but do it bein’ able to leave our bed, go out and eat and gamble and drink and whatever the fuck we wanna do and it doesn’t matter who sees ’cause no one is watching.”
She melted into him, not hiding even a little bit she liked that idea.
“Next weekend. Vegas,” she agreed.
“Next weekend. Vegas,” he confirmed.
Her happiness came back, not through laughter, through a sweet smile.
“I’ll sort my shit,” she promised.
“I’ll sort mine,” he did the same.