The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,51

for this five seconds,” he whispered back.

I heard that.

“Okay. Then let’s make it ten.”

He smiled at me.

Holding me in his arms in my bathroom, Tobias Gamble was smiling at me.

God.

Outside the day God gave me Brooklyn, this was the best day ever.

We took our ten seconds (okay, maybe it was fifteen) before he bent his head to touch his lips to mine, that beard and mustache tickling me, and he sadly let me go.

“You on beer or wine tonight?” he asked, nabbing his own beer from the counter.

“Wine. Red,” I told him.

“Got you covered. Get dressed,” he ordered, sauntering out of my bathroom. “And hurry.”

“Order received, Talon.”

He shot me a grin over his shoulder (hot) and disappeared in my bedroom.

I turned to the mirror, righted my hair as best as I could then took off my robe, grabbed my perfume, which was also running out, and spritzed.

I didn’t dally with donning bra and panties (matching, both pre-Brooks, both sexy), jeans, shirt, belt, earrings, socks and cowboy boots.

I did put time into the lipstick because a bad application of red was never good.

Then I hit the kitchen with dusk falling and only about ten minutes before everyone showed, which kind of sucked.

I wanted more time with Toby.

He was leaning with his hips against the sink, a beer still in his hand, but on the island there was an open bottle of red with one of Izzy’s wineglasses, which was squat, flat at the bottom of the bowl and had little bees embossed on it. That glass was filled with a healthy dose of vino.

I gave half a second of attention to the wine and a lot more to the look on Toby’s face which showed he dug the outfit.

Openly showed that.

Like he openly showed he liked what he saw in the bathroom, openly shared verbally he thought I was gorgeous, and earlier, without hesitation or even a nuance of bullshit, he stated he was into me.

It wasn’t about dancing around anymore, but that didn’t mean games couldn’t be played.

Tobe was playing no games.

Toby Gamble was no player.

As he said, this was happening.

And as I knew before, when a Gamble man found what he wanted, he wouldn’t fuck around.

He was not fucking around.

Okay, damn.

Why did I feel like crying?

I didn’t cry.

I was Adeline Forrester.

A Forrester Girl.

We were made of sterner stuff.

At least I was (Iz and Mom cried all the time, but there was still iron under all that fluff).

To stop myself from crying, I handed him shit.

“You can’t kiss me, my lipstick is perfect and it’ll get all over you,” I declared.

“Addie, do you think I give that first fuck you get your lipstick all over me?” he returned.

He had to be stopped.

At least for a few hours.

“You know, your brother, my sister, the two folks who helped raise you, Deanna, Charlie and my son are gonna be here in ten minutes. This whole thing with us is as new to them as it is to us, so we need to get a lock on acting like we want to jump each other’s bones.”

“I got a lot in me, babe, you normally, but especially you as you look right now, I think that’s impossible.”

Totally worth putting in the effort for Toby.

I swiped up my wineglass. “Try. Now did you turn on my lights?”

“Yup.”

I took a sip of wine and it was delicious (Tobe had a way with picking wine that was uncanny since he didn’t drink it).

I swallowed and demanded, “Show me.”

He grinned, pushed from the sink, came my way and slung an arm around my shoulders, guiding me out of the kitchen.

I slid my arm around his waist.

Whoa.

We fit.

Prefect.

With Dapper Dan trailing, we walked outside, across the porch, down the steps and into the drive.

Dapper Dan took off to explore.

I looked at the house.

It wasn’t dark yet, though the sun was setting.

It still looked fantastic.

It was simple and bright and was already giving a warm golden-red glow to the house.

My arm around Toby pulled him tighter to my side.

“I feel like calling Margot and asking her to wait half an hour so Brooks can see it in all its glory,” I said.

“Yeah, it doesn’t suck,” Toby replied.

I turned to press my front down his side and got his neck twisted and his beard tipped down so he could catch my gaze.

“It’s perfect,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, honey,” he said quietly back, the look of wanting to jump my bones completely gone, a new look I had to admit