Page 204 of You've Got Hate Mail
That nothing else has broken here.
Or something.
But mostly, I think it’s me.
Lav and I venture out together to get our hair done the day before school starts a couple weeks after Caro and Ten’s visit—her to get her green streaks touched up, me to handle the mess that my hair has become since I was already about due for a trip to the salon when I arrived here—and nothing bad happens.
No one looks at us.
No one whispers about us or shoves my video in my face, either the raw version or the GrippaBeav versions.
No one makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Lav and I even stop at a burger-and-shake spot for lunch before we head back to the winery.
She heads off for her first day of second grade armed with a stack of birthday invitations for her whole class.
And midmorning, as I’m checking on The Cluckinator and her three new sisters in the chicken coop that Heath built and fenced in for them with my and Lav’s help, he pulls back into the driveway when I think he should be out doing a job, joins me at the coop, and pulls me into the house.
Upstairs.
Into his bedroom.
I’m wet before we get through the doorway, and then he’s kissing me and tearing my clothes off and dragging me toward his bathroom.
“Finally,” he groans as he pulls out of the kiss.
He strips himself, then guides me into the tile-walled shower with him and turns on the overhead rain spout, then twists on the in-wall nozzles, surrounding us with hot water while he captures my mouth again.
I can’t stop touching him everywhere.
His broad shoulders and flat pecs.
His ribs.
His ass.
The low noises he makes in the back of his throat tell me he’s loving this as much as I’m loving his hands all over me too.
This kiss.
The way his thick erection presses into my belly.
“Want you—so bad,” he gasps as he pushes me against the shower wall.
“Want you more,” I pant back.
He parts my legs with his thigh, and then we’re kissing again while I rub my clit against the rough texture of his leg and he thumbs my nipples and groans into my mouth.
My breath hitches as an orgasm approaches, closer and closer with every tilt of my hips.
Best legs.
He has the best legs.
The best penis.
The best body.
