Page 129 of Camp Bliss
My efforts to keep from smiling fail miserably. “C’mon,” I say, getting to my feet. “We need to finish before it gets dark.”
I try to tug him up, but he tugs back. “Hang on, G.” He tilts his head, looking up at me. “So….”
I blink. “So…?”
Zach blushes. I love it when he blushes. Copper is my new favorite color.
“If you’re worried about what would happen if we broke up—” He’s still holding my hand, and he swings our joined hands side to side nervously like we’re playing Red Rover. “Does that mean we’re together?”
Shit. Now it’s my turn to blush. Big time.
“I mean, yeah, if you want,” I say with a shrug, and this guy dissolves into hysterics all over again.
He gets to his feet and hooks me around the waist. He hoists me up and plants a wet kiss on my lips.
“I want.”
He kisses me again, and I smile against his lips. “Me too.”
Zach goes in for another nibble of my lips.
“Mmm.” It feels so good. I nibble him back. “And this doesn’t count as your sneak either.”
He shakes his head, making his lips brush against mine. “Of course not.”
Because that happens later.
After we’ve laid the flagstones but before we finish spreading the pea gravel.
And now I know you shouldn’t make out on either one. Because the flagstones are really
hard and pea gravel gets intoeverything.
ChapterTwenty-One
ZACH
“Ohmygod, I wish we had a tub,”Greta groans loudly from her shower. “My back iskillingme.”
I inhale to holler back anI told you so,and then think better of it.
So what if I told her not to try to lift the big flagstones? I don’t need my girlfriend getting pissed at me because I’m a pompous asshat.
I grin.
My girlfriend.
Instead, I yell back something way better. “Back rubs are free, babe.”
She murmurs something that doesn’t make it past the shower stream, but whatever it was, it sounded like approval.
I glance over at my pullout bed and make a snap decision. If I’m allowed to give her a back rub, I don’t think it can be on a mattress.
Too tempting.
We may have cleared up a lot of things today, and I may have bruises on my knees from grinding into her on our freshly paved walkway to prove it, but Greta hasn’t given me any indication that we aren’t still going slow.
And when she’s ready, I want to clear the fucking calendar.
