A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(126)

But I’m not that girl, and Crew knows it.

By the time we’re in the back seat of the car and Crew is trying to kiss me, I push him away, earning yet another scowl for my efforts.

“What’s wrong?”

I chance a look in Peter’s direction before I return my gaze to Crew’s. “Is this all we’re going to be? Each other’s hook-up partner?”

“Is that all you want it to be?” he asks carefully.

I don’t want it all put on me. I need input from him. I need to know how he feels about me. I can’t make this decision on my own. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, and I’m completely clueless on how to handle it.

“I—”

He cuts me off. “Because it’s not what I want. You really think I want you to be a casual hookup when I’m sending you Chanel lipsticks every day?”

“I don’t know how any of this works.” I feel helpless. Worse?

I feel dumb.

“I’ll tell you how it works. At least with me.” He slips his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side, so he can whisper in my ear. “There’s this girl, you see. She’s sweet. Beautiful. I don’t know how she tolerates an ass like me, but she seems to like me all right. And I really, really like her.”

Warmth spreads through my veins and my heart swells.

“This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to spend all of my time with a girl, and it’s leaving me feeling…consumed. I can’t stop thinking about her. All I want to do is make her smile. Make her laugh. Make her like me,” he continues.

I angle my head toward his and whisper, “I do like you.”

Crew kisses me, his lips clinging to mine. “I like you too. And I definitely don’t want you to be a casual hookup.”

Another kiss. This one deeper, with tongue.

“I want you to be mine. And no one else’s,” he whispers against my lips.

I reach for the neck of his sweater, tugging out the chain with my ring on it. I slip my finger into the ring and gently pull, staring up at him. “No one else has this.”

“I know. It means you belong to me. I already told you that.”

“I just feel…unsure sometimes,” I admit.

He gathers me closer, until I’m practically in his lap. I never did put on my seatbelt. “I never want you to feel unsure again.”

“You don’t?” I tilt my head back when he presses his mouth to my throat.

“No,” he murmurs against my skin. “You belong to me.”

He licks the length of my neck, making me shiver.

“And don’t ever forget it.”





FORTY-NINE





WREN





I wake up on Christmas Eve to my mother rushing into my room, her eyes wide, her white silk robe billowing behind her.

“You have a gift,” she announces.

Rubbing my eyes, I blink at her, still half asleep. “Where is it?”

“I couldn’t carry it into your room. You’ll have to come out and see it.” She is giddy, practically jumping up and down in one place. And giddy is never a word I use to describe my mother.

I leave the bed and pull on the hoodie that’s draped over the back of my desk chair, then slip my feet into the slippers I got for Christmas last year. I follow Mom and she leads me into the foyer where a large brown box is leaning against the wall right by the door.

“Is it one of your paintings?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “Your name is on it. I had to sign for it.”

“Maybe it’s the piece I bought from Hannah Walsh.” Though I was told it wouldn’t be delivered until the beginning of the new year.

Mom goes to the nearby console table and pulls a drawer open, withdrawing a box cutter. “Let’s open it.”

“Wow. You’re prepared,” I say with a huff.

“I’m opening boxes like this all the time.” She pushes up the blade and goes to the box, careful as she cuts it open. I watch, anticipation curling through my veins, curiosity leaving me stumped.

I seriously have no idea what’s inside this box.

“Do you think it’s from Crew?” I ask, not wanting to get my hopes up.

Hasn’t he given me enough already?

“It came from a different delivery service, so maybe not,” Mom says as she slices the box open with the blade. “Oh, I think it’s a painting.”

She pulls at the cut cardboard, tossing it aside.

“It’s not large enough to be the one I bought,” I say, staring at the canvas wrapped in white.

“Tear it off and let’s see what it is!” My mother is practically vibrating with excitement. This is the kind of thing she lives for.

My mind is scrambling, but I’m drawing a complete blank. I have no idea what this could be or who it’s from.

Crew has sent me plenty, so I doubt it’s from him…

“If you don’t open it, I’m going to open it for you,” she finally says, reaching for the painting.

“Hey, that’s mine.” I push her out of the way with my hip, making her laugh.

Carefully, I pull the gauzy wrap from the painting, which isn’t really a painting at all. My heart’s starting to race as it’s slowly revealed and my hands begin to shake. I recognize it immediately, of course. The lip prints in multiple colors on white canvas, how they almost cover the entire space. The way all of those lips clustered together seem to undulate.