Chapter Thirty-One

Sebastian

Two weeks.

It took two extremely long weeks to get Enzo and Ro in the same place at the same time, thanks to their hectic work schedules.

My schedule was no lighter—I've picked up way too many paint jobs to save for moving expenses. Which means I've had no ability to spend time with Nora. Zip. Zilch.

I'm feeling the separation.

Enzo strides into Palace Social so fast I can barely keep up. "Ro and I love this place. We'd go on dates here a lot."

It's like Dave and Busters on steroids in here, right down to the celestial carpet and acid-trip colors everywhere. Bowling lanes line the back wall, a huge arcade fills out most of the front, and a busy circular bar sits dead center of it all. The lanes are lit with black lights for "cosmic bowling." Everything neon glows in the dark.

"It's a great spot," I concede.

He points to the far-right end of the lanes. "There they are. Oh, she wore my favorite shirt of hers! Do you think that's a good sign?"

Considering my job is to be his hype man and I have no idea what Ro's shirt choice says about her state of mind, I give an eager nod and clap him on the shoulder. "It can't hurt."

Four people are waiting in the seating area for lane one. They're sitting in the horseshoe-shaped bench, and I can see Ro's face, as well as the back of two heads.

One head of very familiar brown hair.All it takes is a glimpse and I'm ready to crawl out of my skin to get to Nora.

Two weeks of surviving on only a diet of her text messages. They've grown more frequent with us not being able to see each other in person, but I still want more.

It started the morning after she put on that show for me in my bedroom when I texted her good morning . She responded great morning, and I spent seven minutes debating if that was in reference to waking up after the great night we had or if she was just having a damn good morning. By the time I was ready to respond, she sent me a picture of her coffee on her work counter and a cheers , so I took that to mean she needed to get busy and signed off with a have a great shift, pretty girl .

The next day, she sent a paparazzi spy shot of Nella talking to a group of women at the pool with the caption Local celebrity spotted at the Y.

As one does, I followed that up with a picture of my lunch. Lobster bisque.Not too shabby.

An hour later, I glanced at my phone and almost fell off a ladder. She sent a picture of herself licking a snow cone, captioned Wish you were here .My paint roller, coated in a dark blue shade called Sailor's Navy, immediately hit the very white ceiling of some rich person's living room thanks to that distraction. It took a coat of primer and a special trip to Home Depot to buy the right color white paint to match the ceiling to fix that error.

We've texted every day since about everything and nothing, my mentees getting honor roll and her doctor's appointment. The dangerous kind of small talk I've come to depend on.

It's clear I have no self-control and need to always know what she's up to. My brain is telling me I have no right, but the rest of me insists she's mine .

We really need to talk about what's next.

After a pit stop to get bowling shoes, Enzo puts on polite airs when we arrive at the entrance to the lane one seating area. You know, as if he didn't barrel in here like a golden retriever let off his leash in his haste to get to Ro. "Hey, everyone."

A chorus of hellos float our way.

Ro crosses her arms, her gaze careful but eager.She pops her gum, her tone a little nervous. "Hi, Enzo."

Enzo lifts a hand. "Hey." He takes a few steps and drops on an empty stretch of bench beside her.

They look like that old vintage cartoon of the skunks with hearts around their heads as they take turns looking at each other.

Now that's a good start. It seems Nella was on to something when she said just get them in the same room and see what shakes out .

On the other bench, Nora's seated next to Benji and I'm almost certain they are playing chess against each other on their phones.

I wave my hand in front of their faces. "You're both aware you're hot, right? You don't have to live like this."

Nora rises to her feet. "Sorry, I was trying not to lose."

"Wait, don't exit the game! I'm about to win," Benji argues, dragging his finger along the phone screen. "Okay, there we go. Crushed your ass."

Ignoring him, she pockets her phone and moves closer to me. For a second, I think she'll hug me. My body tenses for it. Hungers for it. But she slides past and struts over to the computer to enter my and Enzo's names. "Okay, we're just waiting for Alessia and Eloise, right?"

"Just me," Alessia says as she bounds into the area. "Eloise's event is running late."

Nora hefts a bowling ball. "Well then. Just the six of us! Who's ready for a fun game?"

I meet her eye and she shrugs as if to say here goes nothing .

Given the way Enzo and Ro keep inching closer as if they can't help themselves, I am cautiously optimistic that this wasn't the worst idea.

…

Ro and Enzo have taken to circling each other between their turns, always pulling other people into their conversations so as not to talk about anything real.

Nora and I have been keeping things upbeat by telling stories about our lives. Mine are only 50 percent true at this point, just to keep everyone laughing, and I think one of hers is just the plot of a famous eighties movie, but no one calls her out on it.I resist the urge to haul her into my arms every time she giggles or her gaze catches mine.

She's trying her best, chatting with Enzo and Ro, chatting with Alessia, harassing Benji, flitting around like a tense butterfly between her turns. If she ever hosted a house party, she'd go nuclear trying to make sure everyone had a good time.

She needs a break. Or maybe I want her to myself for a little bit. Regardless of the reason, I wait until the rest of them pause the game to order food and guide her out of the seating area. We climb the two stairs that bring us back onto the carpeted landing and move behind a bowling ball case as tall as my hip.

I squeeze her shoulder as the trilling sound of a video game floats out of the arcade beside us. "You're tense, Nor. Relax. We can only lead the horses to water, but we can't make them drink."

"I just want them happy again." She lets out a little groan, and her eyes briefly shut. "That feels good."

I add a second hand, angling her totally toward me as I rub her neck. It's impossible not to look at her face, even when her eyes are closed. Her lashes rest on her cheeks and she exhales softly. Fuck, I think she's becoming my Kryptonite. I could watch her do nothing all day and be perfectly content.

Her forehead falls forward. My chest catches it and we stand together like it's normal.It's mostly dark up here, neither the light from the neon lanes nor the arcade reaching us in this in-between place.

Fitting. Whatever this is between us feels like some kind of in-between place.

My hands slide against her skin. While my blood is hot, my insides grow cold as a thought moves through me.

One day, another man is going to touch her here. Put his grubby fingerprints all over her. Give her what she's begged me for. I'll have no idea it's happening because I'll be long gone. Nebraska, or wherever the hell I'll go after that. And maybe that's good, because if I were around to see it, I wouldn't be able to stand it.

I already can't stand it.

I pull her against me. My chin rests on top of her head as her arms move around my waist. Her hair smells like that flower store, perfumed and sweet. She's starting to feel like home base. The person I come back to in a crowded room. I have no idea what to do with that.

She tips her head. "Should we go back?"

And give up the first chance I've had to be alone with her, to touch her, in two weeks? Not a fucking chance.

"I say"—I walk us backward, still holding her against me—"we check out the claw machine in the arcade instead. I want to win you a stuffed bear."

"A stuffed bear?"

"A stuffed anything, really."

She bites her lip as she peers back toward the lanes. "Will they miss us?"

"It looks like Benji and Alessia have abandoned Enzo and Ro to go to the bar, probably to give them alone time to talk. I think we're fine." I nod toward the arcade. "C'mon. This won't take long."

Her lips curve up. "You're very confident in your claw machine abilities."

I tuck her hair behind her ear. "The Claw is my favorite sport."

"And here I would've guessed baseball."

"Baseball is a strong second." The carpet mutes our steps as I guide her through the doorway. It's empty in here, probably because this time of night draws an older bar-loving crowd.

As promised, I take her to the machine and swipe my credit card.

She props herself against the side, arms crossed as she watches me fail the first time with a soft smile. The sleeves of her white summer shirt hang off her shoulders. "You're cute when you're concentrating. All hawkeyed."

"All part of my strategy," I say as I miss the first attempt. "Now stop distracting me."

Her melodic laugh competes with the music playing on a loop from the Space Galaxy pinball machine. "I'm just standing here."

"Exactly."

I swipe my card again. The claw drops down and I fail a second time.

On the fourth try, when I'm starting to sweat, the metal hand clasps a yellow duck. The hold doesn't appear solid, but it's just enough of a cradle to carry it to the chute.

I pump my fist in the air.

She squeals. "You got it!"

"Easy," I lie as I grab it from the machine. "A duck for the lady."

She launches herself at me, flinging her arms around my neck. I lose my footing at her enthusiasm and the claw machine catches my fall. We're laughing until our smiles press together and fade into a slow, deep kiss. My body gets all sorts of ideas when she nips my bottom lip.

"Mmm. You really like ducks," I murmur against her lips.

She lets out a breathy laugh. "I really like men who win me ducks. Now kiss me like you mean it."

I take a look around the arcade then guide us a foot sideways, nestling us between the claw machine and a photo booth with her back against the wall. I take her duck and set it on top of the claw machine for safekeeping before our mouths collide again. Her lips are an urgent promise against mine. She opens for me, letting me taste and savor. Letting me take it farther and deeper than I normally would when someone could walk past.

I trace the soft fringe of her jean skirt, then slip my hand underneath to grip the outside of her thigh, lifting her leg just enough that I can better fit against her. The denim inches higher as she moves, and damn do I want to drop to my knees and see what I might've revealed, but I'm not done with her mouth yet. Might never be.

When we come up for air, my fingers thread through hers and I pull her off the wall. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are wet from me, or maybe her lip gloss.

"Come here. I want a picture of you like this." I navigate around the machine, open the heavy black curtain, and usher her inside with a hand to her back. My fingers brush the sliver of exposed skin beneath the hem of her top.

I step in behind her and whip the curtain shut. It goes all the way to the floor, giving us the dangerous illusion of privacy. The only light is the glow of the computer screen that shows us our options for purchase.

I sit on the bench and guide her onto my lap. My hands dig into her hips as her back falls flush with my chest. Her body is so warm and inviting.

"Set it up," I murmur in her ear.

Her voice is already drowsy with want as she presses her ass into me. "Huh?"

"I meant what I said. I want a picture of you."

"Can't we just—"

My teeth graze her earlobe as I grab my credit card and place it in her hand. "Please?"

She leans forward to slide it in the reader. As she presses a few buttons on the screen, I run a hand down her back, applying light pressure, and then hike her skirt up around her waist.

But I'll behave. If this counts as behaving.

Her gasp of surprise pulls a dark laugh from my mouth. "You thought kissing you against a wall would be enough?" My hand moves down over bare skin. I've never felt the compulsion to spank anything until I glimpsed her ass in the bikini back at the lake, and the impulse only grows stronger.

"But the pictures—"

"Are from the waist up." I guide her back onto my lap, welcoming the pressure against my swollen cock.

The screen displays instructions as if we've never been on the receiving end of a flash before. Our faces appear so we can prepare ourselves.

Not visible on screen: my hand sliding up her smooth thigh, all the way to her hip.I pinch the waistband of her skimpy underwear and slowly pull them down her legs. She lifts her feet so I can slide them free. I tuck them in my pocket.

The countdown on-screen begins to strobe.

4…3…2

She's nearly breathless as she whispers, "Smile."

1.

I bury my face in her neck. The first flash captures her with her eyes closed and lips gently parted as I suck her sweet skin. My hand slips inside her shirt, drifting across her stomach, staying just low enough to avoid being captured on camera.

4…3…2…

I pinch one of her nipples and she practically shoots off my lap.

Can't wait to see that one.

I guide her face sideways and steal her mouth. The last two photos on this strip will tell the story of how bad I am at resisting her.

As soon as that fourth and final flash goes off, I slip two fingers inside of her. She's so wet, it's an easy glide. "You hear anyone?"

Her exhale is uneven as her legs fall open wider. "No."

"Good." I unbuckle my belt with one hand as the other lands between her shoulder blades. I give her a light push until she hinges forward, bracing her hands on either side of the computer screen. "Because it's been too fucking long."

" Here ?" she whispers, even as she arches her back in offering, putting every tantalizing bit of her on display. A powerful shudder rolls down my back as I squeeze her ass with both hands and trace my thumb down to her wet entrance. If there was even a foot more space in this booth, I'd bury my face there until she screamed my name.

"We're not at my house anymore," I rumble. "I've got no rule about this, do you?"

"Nope." Her voice is breathless and eager as she rocks backward, allowing my finger to slip inside. "None at all."

I shove down my pants just enough to free my cock and rub the swollen head up and down her tight seam, trying with all I have not to breach her. She'd love the danger of that too much and I'd never want to stop.

Once I'm well slicked, I pull back an inch and stroke myself. If it's anything like last time, my girl will tell me exactly where she wants me to finish. Where will it be? Her clit again? Her ass? Right down the center of her folds where she's soaked just for me?

Fuck . The thought of that one gets me even harder.

She glances over her shoulder, her green eyes and those black frames a ruining combination. But instead of telling me what she wants, she sinks back onto my cock, taking me halfway. My vision briefly blurs and corrects itself, generously giving me back the stunning sight of her. The sensation is everything I imagined magnified tenfold by how much I can feel she wants it, too.

Her lips part as she does it again, letting me slide in a bit deeper this time.

I could come just from the look on her face, but the wet, agonizing heat of her? The last shred of control I have left is about to snap. My hands hover over her hips. I want to grab hold of what she's offering and make her mine, consequences and all. This woman fucking owns me. "Nora…"

" Take it ," she begs. "Take what you want."

So I do.