Chapter Twenty-Four
Lemon
“That was incredible,” Oliver marvels for the quintillionth time in my passenger seat.
Pretty sure I could pluck the stars right from his eyes if I wanted.
“I could get used to this enchantable side of you.”
“Me too.” He squeezes my knee as I drive, catching my eyes for permission to do more.
I nod as goosebumps overtake me, promises of the places his hands will go if we continue down this path.
I release a desperate moan when those places become my upper thigh, his pinky finding me soaking beneath the slit of sparkling fabric, that single connection drenching my pussy with urgency.
Shifting my weight to trap him between my quads seems dangerous behind the wheel, so I don’t rock my body into his hand.
I let him play.
It’s absolute torture, and the smug Nashhole knows it. He curls the edge of his lip, moving his fingers through my arousal with each frustrated breath I exhale, until I’m swatting him away.
“I can’t drive if you distract me!”
“That’s what she said.” He snickers, and I roll my eyes.
“That is, without a doubt, the last thing she said.”
He crosses his toned arms over his chest with a pout I’d like to taste, and I roll my eyes at myself this time.
Even my mind has dirtier jokes.
“If someone would have bet me a year ago I’d be sitting here having this conversation with you of all people—”
“You’d what?”
The cold river air promises adventure against my cheek, just as his fingers brush the other, two sides of me calling the same soul, but his call is the loudest.
“You scare the hell out of me, to be honest, Lem. You are fearless in the craziest possible ways. Brave enough to travel the world, smart enough to earn accolades and degrees, with wit enough to talk your way in or out of any situation. Rules and reason mean nothing when it comes to you. I mean, look at this thing!”
He waves around the contract I drew up for Shaylyn, purple gel pen on a Sugar Stable napkin I found in the glove box, and I blush.
“This is genius. But who else but you would have thought of it? That makes you special. That’s what makes you who you are. It’s also what terrifies me, because you are the whole package, Lemon Anne Perkins. And that’s so damn much to lose.”
Tears roll down my cheeks with the admission of his love. That what he sees as strengths are the very things I believe to be my flaws. I brush away teardrops and blow out a grateful breath.
“Napkin contracts are sort of my specialty.” I sniffle. “A story for another day.”
“I’d like to hear you tell it.”
“I bet you would.”
“That’s what she sai—”
“No, Nash.” I hold up my hand. “She did not say that, either, sadly. I think maybe you should just stick to stuff she didn’t say.”
“Brat.” He slaps his hand back over my thigh, and my eyes drop to meet it there, every pussy muscle I possess tensing involuntarily before I force my gaze back to the road.
“I want to do all the things with you, pretty much all at once when your hand is there,” I tell him. “Just so we’re clear.”
“Is that what she said?”
“Okay,” I take in his shit-eating grin, “I’ll give you that one if you stop trying.”
“Noted.” He smiles brighter than the moon, and I can’t take my eyes off the view.
Oliver Nashville at peace.
I pull us over to bask in this light he rarely lets shine, just a bit longer, but his smile falters when we lean into one another, and both of our lips curl.
“Uh, Sour Patch, I want to do all the things, too…to be clear, but we smell ungodly.” He sniffs his jacket and gags.
I smell my own clothes and just about retch. “There might be some weirdos out there willing to pay for this popstar puke.”
Oliver gapes. “That’s—”
“Awful? I know. Jeremy says I make jokes when I’m in tense situations. It’s something I’m not working on, as you can see.”
“I was going to say genius.”
We fall over with laughter, our foreheads finding rest against the other, until our breathing slows as one.
“I’m going to kiss you,” I tell him.
So, I do.
But it tastes like fucking puke. “Gross!” I spit out the window.
Oliver wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Let’s go home and shower.”
Our silent breath fogs the car before either of us says more. I don’t acknowledge that it isn’t my home, nor do I acknowledge to myself why. Instead, I find ways to avoid the word altogether.
“We could take a swim.” I slip a shoulder out of my gown, my eyes lingering on his pants before exiting the car.
His jaw drops, but I don’t look back to see if he’s gathered it from the floor. You can lead your whore to water, or something like that.
As predicted, he follows frantically behind me. “It’s after dark, Sour Patch. You can’t go in there.”
He whips out his phone, to google it, maybe. Who knows? But there’s a reason Shaylyn couldn’t call out for help. The cell towers don’t make it this far in Pine Forest. We’re in God’s land now, as the locals say. And by locals, I mean me and Jeremy when we’re tipsy at line-dancing night.
He groans, pacing on the other side of the unhooked chain. “Don’t.”
But I do.
And I relish teasing him from the other side. He doesn’t dare cross it, the invisible line in the dirt.
It seems Daddy Nash has returned, and the adventurous man-child I pulled free is back in his little hidey-hole.
He refastens the chain. “Lem, it’s trespassing.” He holds out his hand for me to join him on the safe side, but I’m not budging. He needs this.
For sanity and sanitization.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re doing this, Oliver. It’s part of healing. Be free and live in the moment. You were on such a good streak there for a bit, so what happened?”
“This happened. It’s one thing to gamble with your father, but you’re asking me to break the law.”
“Laws are flexible, like I said. You can’t be broken if you bend. It’s the circle of law.”
“That doesn’t even mean anything! You’re just saying a bunch of words.”
“Look, it’s land, Nash.” I peel my dress off so I’m down to just my bra. His eyes roam every spot they can before finding mine. “Nobody can own land, can they?”
“Of course they can. That’s like…that’s the whole point of wars and nations and... It’s a national park,” he argues. “It is literally the nation’s park; don’t you get that? They own this land!”
“And we are the people of the nation,” I quip, my nipples pressed tightly against my cups with the chill of the wind.
I’m Lady Liberty, standing tall on her island, ushering the freedom of this one single man.
“And in order to form a more perfect union, we have to establish some…just us, if you will.” My bra drops to the ground.
“Ensure dom-estic tranquility, perhaps?”
I slap my naked ass as a nod to the moment he lost control in that bus. “I can flex the law for you all night long if that’s what you want, but guess what?”
He groans, and I love it entirely.
“You’ll have to catch me first.”