Page 101 of Heart Over Heels

“El’s aproat that dance game,” Oz bragged. “The one with the little squares you stomp? He demolished it.”

Mercer laughed. “I remember that game. Used to kick my ass.”

Oz’s grin got larger. “He didn’t miss. There was a crowd. People were cheering. It was epic.”

I stared at Elliot. Grumpy, do-not-perceive-me Elliot. Drawing acrowd?

“And I missed it?” I demanded.

Elliot shrugged and gave his hair a toss. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he muttered.

Oz peeled the ropes of tickets off himself, and Elliot nodded to them. “Take ’em. I don’t need any of this shit. It’s even lamer than when I was a kid.”

He tried to sound annoyed, but something soft edged through.

I bit back a smile. Not about the tickets or the prize, but about this silly moment that felt like family, and about something else I was learning to love: days off.

Oz piled the tickets in my arms, and I ferried them to the counter, where they fed into a machine that tallied the number higher and higher.

It was enough for the lava lamp, a few Chinese finger traps, a pack of sticky hands that the twins would undoubtedly weaponize, and a twisty rainbow lollipop that Zephyr could—and would—use to tantalize Beck.

I collected everything with the lava lamp box tucked tightest against me, then turned toward where Elliot lingered near the doorway.

Crossing the space between us, I swooped in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He squawked like I’d offended his entire bloodline and scrubbed his face against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I told him then pranced out onto the gaming floor to join the others.

Once we were loaded in the limo, I reclaimed my seat in Mercer’s lap. The prizes piled beside us were rifled and redistributed, filling the car with giggles and grins.

I loved it.

I loved this feeling, and these people, and…

Twisting around, I glanced at Mercer, who’d gone quiet again. He held me loosely with his fingers splayed on my thigh where he could fiddle with the cuffed leg of my shorts. He seemed distant, gone somewhere I couldn’t follow.

But I wanted him here, in this moment with me, so I turned a little more and grabbed his face.

Pulling him in, I kissed him deeply, letting my tongue trace the seam of his lips until he opened for me.

Someone gave a wolf whistle, and I grinned. The limo rolled on as I indulged myself in a slower, savoring kiss. I dragged my hand along the shaved side of Mercer’s head, relishing the soft bristle against my skin.

With a kittenish lick at his teeth, I drew back to look at him with my forehead still tipped to his.

“I like you, Mercer James,” I murmured.

His eyes widened, spreading pools of coffee brown. But his surprise was overshadowed by something I didn’t recognize. Some thought he didn’t want me to read.

His fingers tightened on my thigh, and his timid smile coupled with the lines that creased his forehead as he replied, “I like you too, pretty girl.”

Onlookers be damned; I was in for it now. If he was nervous, I would reassure him. It was my turn to prove I wanted this. Wanted him.

So I kissed him again and then broke free to work my way around in his lap until we were chest to chest. I wasn’t sure how Mercer felt about exhibitionism, but the dolls could handle a show. Zephyr might even get a nice boost of energy from it. I couldn’t sense lust the way an incubus could, but I would’ve bet anything the air was getting thick with it.

My hands slid lower, tracing the curve of Mercer’s waist as he stammered a weak protest.

“Darby, I think?—”