Page 191 of So This Is War
“We need to change this,” I say as we walk into the small bedroom. “We need to move your clothes to my closet. I have plenty of room.”
“You really want to do that?” she asks as she pulls one of my shirts out from where it’s folded in a drawer. “You don’t want to keep your space?”
My eyebrows knead together. “Space? I don’t want space from you. Do you want space?”
Her eyes meet mine. “No,” she says. “But I don’t want to encroach.”
“You’re not when I’m saying I want you there.”
“Hey,” she says, coming up to me and pressing her hand to my heart. “Don’t get upset. I just wanted to make sure you were ready for that.”
“If I wasn’t ready, I wouldn’t have suggested it. I want you fully in my life, Wylie. I don’t like this separation. I want you in our apartment, permanently there.”
Her smile grows wide as she unzips her dress on the side and slips it off, leaving her in nothing but a high-waisted thong and bra.
“I think I can get on board with that.”
I take her in as I place my hands on her hips. “Is this a new set?” I ask, running my fingers over the lace.
“It is,” she says. “Want me to keep it on?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling all kinds of dizzy. “I do.”
“Consider it done,” she says as she slips my shirt over her head and lets it cover up her luscious body.
“Or maybe you lose the shirt,” I say.
She chuckles. “I’m not about to eat a meal in just my lingerie. I would do a lot of things for you, but that is not one of them.”
“Where’s the romance?” I tease.
“Here,” she says, slipping her hand down the front of my pants where she cups me.
I bend forward and let out a hiss as she works her fingers over my length right before removing her hand.
“Baby,” I say in frustration. “You can’t do that.” I stand tall and gesture to my dick. “It’s hard now.”
“Just the way I like it.” And like the tease she is, she takes my hand and leads me back toward the living room, me walking uncomfortably the entire time. “So tell me what you have set up for us.”
I clear my throat and bring her over to the blanket, where I pull her down with me. I open the picnic basket and pull out two plates, each with a bologna sandwich.
She laughs out loud and shakes her head at me. “Oh my God, Levi.”
“This is what our romance is built on.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks.
“That night, when I found out you were the one stealing my bologna in the stadium, that was the night I knew you were meant for me.”
“That’s . . . oddly romantic.”
I lean forward and kiss her lips before pulling back. Reaching into the basket, I pull out some champagne and glasses, as well as classic Lays.
“This is quite the meal,” she says, looking down at it, then her eyes meet mine. “I don’t think I could imagine anything else for our first date.”
I pop the champagne and pour us each a glass. I hold out the flute to her, and I hold mine up. I clink her glass with mine and say, “You mean a lot to me, Wylie.”
Her expression softens.
