Page 83 of Legs

Come a-fucking-gain? “Where?” I grabbed her hips, my grip a little too strong. A fucking piercing.

Her shy smile nearly split me in two. “I’ll show you later.”

Wound up and horny as hell, I kissed her hard, trying to figure out where I’d find that little piece of metal. Her nipple? Belly button? Lower? I growled into her mouth when two women walked by, horrified whispers shared. I could barely see straight.

I tugged Rachel toward the main room, her lips swollen and well-kissed, mine hungry for more. We could have taken off and finished what we started, but I wanted to see the look on her face when my bid won her mother’s commissioned painting. It would be the first piece of art hung in our place.

Under the framed quote I’d recently purchased:

“If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.” ~ Katharine Hepburn

Three Months Later

Rachel

“We should do this weekly.” My head was on Jimmy’s lap, our pond in front of us, birds singing above.

“Sorry, Sunshine. No dice.” He stretched like a cat. The sexiest feline I’d ever known. “This is a celebration, which means you’d have to enroll in a new program. Start a different career. Actually…that wouldn’t be a challenge for you.”

“Still a comedian.”

Shifting, he pulled me between his legs, my back to his chest. “I could even help you come up with new ventures.”

I nuzzled closer. “Like what?”

“Since you have a Big Bird fetish, you could host those furry conventions. The ones where people dress up as fluffy toys and get it on.”

I rammed my elbow into his side. “Hilarious.”

Locking me tighter between his legs, he pushed his nose through my hair. His wet lips landed on my neck. “How about we stick to viticulture, then?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Especially if every aced test became a celebration with wine, cheese, and us fucking like rabbits under a blue sky. It had been quite a day.

He pressed a kiss to my jaw. “I’m proud of you.”

I was proud of me, too. Since my first class two months ago, I’d attacked my course load head-on—sitting front row, scribbling furious notes. I was ahead on readings and had upped mine and Jimmy’s tastings at home. I was going to rock my degree.

In this moment, though, all I wanted was Jimmy tangled around me like a grapevine, our special picnic spot quiet but for the frogs and insects and birds.

He stroked my legs leisurely. I leaned my head into his neck as the day slipped by, quiet conversation coming in waves. October sunshine danced on my skin.

“I forgot to tell you about your dad,” I said, grinning at the memory. Jimmy hummed in my ear. I went on, “When I saw my mom in San Fran last week, I met him at the gym. He was trying new equipment, and it was beyond hilarious.” The image of him standing in front of the chest press (not seated, as was normal), while trying to squeeze the pads together with his hands was classic.

“Put it up on YouTube next time.”

God, that would be mean…but hysterical. “He’d never trust me again.”

“He doesn’t know what YouTube is, so he’d be clueless. And that man worships you.”

“He grunts at me.”

“That’s high praise from George Giannopoulos. I’d have killed for a grunt in high school.”

A butterfly, yellow and black, flitted past us, nearly touching my knee. It hopped around, flying from place to place, as though it didn’t know where to land. How I used to feel. Untethered. Unsure where to anchor myself. Until Jimmy. I’d forgiven George and Alena their deception, earning another father from the deal, though he was challenging at times. More roots grounding me.

But my favorite root snaked his arms tighter around me. “I love you, Ray.”

Those words never ceased to turn me boneless. “I love you more.”