You and Everything After (Falling #2)(29)
“Well, f*ck,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine and shutting his eyes. He chuckles lightly and shakes his head softly from side to side, our foreheads rolling together. “How am I supposed to be mad about a little pink room when you say shit like that?”
I drag my hands back up his arms until they’re around his neck, and then I let my fingers glide over his jawline, my thumbs in heaven against the rough texture of his chin. God, I swear this man is a lumberjack. “I’m sorry I tricked you,” I say, my lips twitching with nervous energy, just begging him to kiss them again. I have to tuck the bottom one under my teeth just to mask my quivering nerves.
“Yeah, that wasn’t very nice,” he says, licking his lips lightly, his breath hot against my mouth. “I thought that kiss this morning was real.”
“It was,” I say quickly, tilting my face just enough so he’s forced to look into my eyes. I know we’re playing a game right now, but it’s important to me that Ty doesn’t think I’m the kind of girl to give kisses out freely and dishonestly. I’m not that girl anymore, and I’ll never be that girl again. “The only part of this morning that I made up was the part about being locked out of my room. The kissing you part, that was just a perk.”
“Yeah? So I’m, like, on your list of benefits?” he smirks.
“Yeah. It goes: medical, dental, PTO, and Ty Preeter,” I say.
“PTO? What the hell is PTO and how is it before me on the list?” he asks, pushing me flat on the mattress, slowly letting the weight of his body cover mine.
“Uh, paid time off? Like vacation? Sorry, but I need my vacation. I have plans…BIG PLANS! Like Tahoe, the Hamptons, Venice, and London,” I say with a false shrug. Truth be told, Ty’s number one on my list—and he might be the only thing on it at this very moment.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t get vacation. You’ve been a very bad employee,” he says, and his eyes flash this devilish look that warms my entire body.
“What, are you going to write me up or something?” I ask, trying not to break character despite the desire to giggle.
“Something like that. Let’s just say this is all going in your file,” he says, his hands combing through my hair while his lips graze mine, his touch faint, but leaving behind a trail of fire.
“I’ve been written up before,” I say, every muscle in my body weakening, beckoning, and begging for him to take over.
“I think we’re going to need to schedule you some more on-the-job training then,” he says, his laugh slipping through the serious face he’s trying to hold. His smile is perfection, and it melts me completely. “I’m sorry, this whole bad-boss act isn’t working for me. I’m just going to stick with what I know.”
His kiss comes hard and fast after that, his hands strong on either side of my face while his tongue tangles with mine. His body is so warm, and all I want to do is touch every inch of it, my hands instinctively moving to his back and lifting his shirt until he rolls to the side and lets me remove it from him completely. He takes advantage of this move, pulling me on top of him now—kissing me with even more force while he works his fingers slowly around the arch of my back, his thumbs grazing the bare skin just above the waistband of my shorts.
“I f*cking love the Beach Boys,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh, falling with all of my weight into his chest while he wraps his arms tightly around me, then works his fingers through my hair until he can see my face.
“That was…pretty much the strangest mood killer I’ve ever heard,” I say, unable to hide my giggle and the smile that is permanently tattooed under my nose. It’s bliss. This…everything…this moment—it’s bliss.
“You know, that song? The one about California girls, and how perfect your skin and hair and shit is. They’re just dead on, that’s all,” he says, nuzzling his nose against my neck and taking small bites out of my ear.
“You should write them, tell them to change up their lyrics. That song would be so much better your way—California girls have perfect skin and shit.” I can’t even fully finish the sentence without laughing, and Ty can no longer hold his in either.
“Was I even close? God, how does that song go?” he pulls me against his side and tugs one of my pillows over so he can tuck it under his head. He’s humming the tune to California Girls, and his chest is vibrating with every note. He’s actually not a horrible singer. I wonder if he’d ever sing me to sleep?
“You have a nice voice,” I say. When he looks down at me with a pinched brow, I reach up and cross my heart. “I swear, I’m not feeding your ego. You have a nice voice.”
“Lots of choir. Nate’s actually better. He stole the solo from me in the community Christmas play one year when we were kids. Little thief,” he says, still wearing that same smile he does every time he talks about his brother. I love it.
His stare at me is intense. His smile is soft, but there’s something working behind his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
He smiles at my question at first, then watches his hand as he slides his fingers deeper through my hair, fanning the strands out along my bare shoulder. “My mom always says that,” he says. “She’s going to like you.”