Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,59

crinkle at the corner of his eyes that indicated he was smiling. He wiggled his elbow back and forth.

“Come on. It won’t bite.”

I swallowed hard.

It’s just an elbow. It’s not sexual. It’s not anything. Look, he’s not even looking! And I bet my bottom dollar that he won’t back down. You wanna be brave? Lick his elbow, you big baby.

At that, I took a breath. Ignored the painful chugging of my heart. And then, I bent, parted my lips, extended my tongue. My breath bounced off of him and back at me in the second before I brought my tongue to the rough skin of his elbow.

I shot back from him like an arrow, cursing myself for a zillion things and him for at least a dozen. First and foremost was that even his stupid, sexy elbow tasted good.

I made a mental note to ask him what kind of lotion he used.

His laughter filled the cab of the car, his eyes cataloging me as I sat bolt upright, hands folded in my lap, neck long as a giraffe and nose in the air.

But he was only amused, that wily smile of his lighting up his face.

“I told you,” I said archly, staring at the headrest of the passenger seat in front of me. “You can’t feel it.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

My head snapped around to frown at him. “You didn’t.”

He bobbed his head side to side like he was weighing things out. “I didn’t feel you lick it—”

“Ha! I knew it!” I crowed.

“But I did feel your breath just before you did it. I knew it was coming. And when it was done, the wet spot was cold.” He rubbed the spot absently before flipping his cuff and sliding it down his arm, taking my view of his flesh with him.

“So I was right.”

Tommy shrugged, buttoning his sleeve with long, blunt fingers. “So was I.”

I rolled my eyes, both irritated and charmed, that ass.

He changed the subject. “Still nervous?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Your elbow antics are no match for my anxiety, sir.”

A soft chuckle. “And here I thought I was doing so well.” He settled back into the seat, sleeve back in place. “There will be a handful of photographers outside of the restaurant. They shouldn’t get too close, but with the internet blowing up like it has been, who knows.”

I took a long, silent breath.

His hand slipped over mine and squeezed. “Don’t worry. Just hang on to me. I won’t let them get to you. You won’t have to speak to anyone.”

I nodded but said nothing. The weight and warmth of his hand was a comfort I didn’t want to lose. It felt like an anchor, a tether, something to keep me from acting on my flight impulse.

To my surprise, he didn’t retract his hand. Instead, his thumb shifted against the knob of my wrist bone.

“People will take our picture inside, but they’ll be more discreet. Well, hopefully. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve signed a takeout box at Carmine’s. It’s a tourist trap, but the food’s good,” he said on a laugh. “Mostly, it’ll be phones. The staff will be respectful at least.”

I hadn’t stopped nodding like a bobblehead. “All right.”

He watched me for a moment. “I say this because we’ll be on. People will be watching us.” Another pause. “Are you ready for that?”

I met his dark eyes. “For people to watch me? As long as I don’t have to talk to them, I think I’ll be okay.”

A smile flickered on his lips. “Smile, nod, hang on to my arm. I’ll answer for us. And if it gets to be too much—”

“I’ve got to freshen up my lipstick.”

“Or a triple squeeze.”

“Or that. Whatever I can grab, right?”

He chuckled. “I’ll make sure my elbow is within reach at all times.” His smile faded into something closer to uncertainty, almost…timidity. “Is it okay for me to touch you?”

My heart held its breath for a beat before doubling up. “I…um…”

“Hold your hand,” he clarified, that ghost of a smile back. “Hold you close. Touch your leg, your waist. Kiss you.”

At that, my heart actually fainted for a second. “Ah…well…I mean…we are married. I…I guess as long as there’s no tongue, it’s fine.”

I caught a shadow of disappointment in his eyes, but then it was gone. “Fair enough.”

The car rolled to a stop at the mouth of the awning. A handful of guys with cameras around their necks loitered just away from the entrance, their curious faces turning to the car in