Page 28 of Lick
A little line appeared above the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Right. No problem.”
His mouth stayed shut and his hand went to his cheek, touching where I’d been. The frown-faced side-on looks continued for quite some time. Each one made me wonder a bit more if David Ferris was just as scared of me as I was of him. This reaction was even better than a smile.
***
The log-and-stone house rose out of the trees, perched on the edge of a cliff. The place was awe-inspiring on a whole different level from the mansion back in LA. Below, the ocean went about its business of being spectacular.
David climbed out of the car and walked up to the house, fiddling with a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the front door, then stopped to punch numbers into a security system.
“You coming?” he yelled.
I lingered beside the car, looking up at the magnificent house. Him and me alone. Inside there. Hmm. Waves crashed on the rocks nearby. I swore I could hear the swell of an orchestral accompaniment not too far off in the distance. The place was decidedly atmospheric. And that atmosphere was pure romance.
“What’s the problem?” David came back down the stone path toward me.
“Nothing… I was just—”
“Good.” He didn’t stop. I didn’t know what was going on until I found myself hanging upside down over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“Shit. David!”
“Relax.”
“You’re going to drop me!”
“I’m not going to drop you. Stop squirming,” he said, his arm pressing against the back of my legs. “Show some trust.”
“What are you doing?” I battered my hands against the ass of his jeans.
“It’s traditional to carry the bride across the threshold.”
“Not like this.”
He patted my butt cheek, the one with his name on it. “Why would we wanna start being conventional now, huh?”
“I thought we were just being friends.”
“This is friendly. You should probably stop feeling my ass, though, or I’m gonna get the wrong idea about us. Especially after that kiss in the car.”
“I’m not feeling your ass,” I grumbled, and stopped using his butt cheeks for a handhold. Like it was my fault the position left me no alternative but to hold on to his firm butt.
“Please, you’re all over me. It’s disgusting.”
I laughed despite myself. “You put me over your shoulder, you idiot. Of course I’m all over you.”
Up the steps we went, then onto the wide wooden patio and into the house. Hardwood floors in a rich brown and moving boxes, lots and lots of moving boxes. I couldn’t see much else.
“This could be a problem,” he said.
“What could be?” I asked, still upside down, my hair obscuring my view.
“Hang on.” Carefully, he righted me, setting my feet on the floor. All the blood rushed from my head and I staggered. He grabbed my elbows, holding me upright.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. What’s the problem?”
“I thought there’d be more furniture,” he said.
