Page 83 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Chapter Seventeen
The secret to campaign events nobody had ever told Fitz was that they could be funwhen you had a partner. Someone to riff off of, to joke with, to banter—
Reality check: it was just Hallie that made them fun.
She made everything more fun.
Her random spewing of book quotes and references to characters. Her earnest belief that a good night kiss had to be the very last thing done before they fell asleep. The way she made him feel twelve feet tall when he told her how he’d helped mediate or mitigate a problem. The way she laughed with and at him—when deserved.
They’d had sex in the forest—in a tent.
They’d had sex in the boathouse—in a canoe.
And right now, he’d locked them into the dressing room at the community center. No shows or rehearsals scheduled for a week. The crowd from the event were led to believe they’d slipped out the back door. So they were stealthily cuddling on an ancient couch, the stuffing worn so thin the individual springs made themselves known against his ass.
“You did great today,” he said, nuzzling her neck. Soft strands tickled his nose and forehead. Hallie’s lips were nibbling along the edge of his ear. They’d turned on the makeup lights around the mirrors, which gave a soft glow to the dark room.
“You did great.” Hallie had a propensity to be exact that Fitz found crazy endearing. “I did acceptably, which is a nine hundred percent step in the right direction from our first campaign event.”
“Then, my passionate wordsmith, you should agree that a nine hundred percent increase more than qualifies to be called great.”
“You’ve got me there.” They laughed. She wriggled on his lap, a study in sensuality and torture.
Fitz wouldn’t ask her to stop for the world. “Did you have a good time? Doing the Town Hall?”
Her deft fingers worked their way down, undoing the buttons on his starched white shirt. “Never thought I’d say this, but I did.”
“Me too. People are asking good questions about the proposed expansion. They’ve been on autopilot during campaign season for far too long. No matter who wins, this has been good. Shakes things up.”
“So I’m…what? The metal cage that rolls around balls for bingo?” Hallie tickled her fingers in a circle, twining through his exposed chest hair. He’d never been so glad he’d abandoned the undershirts his dad had always insisted upon.
“More like the agitator in a washing machine, I think.” Fitz grabbed her wrist, flipped it over, and dropped a slow, soft kiss into her palm. “I’ve never played bingo. Not up on the tools of the trade.”
“Whaaaaaaat?” Hallie drew out the word until it practically had a thought balloon over it reading ACCUSATION. “You’re the mayor of a small town. Isn’t it in the bylaws that you have to participate in a bingo game at least once a year?”
“You’re exposing your weakness to the opposition.” Fitz flipped up the hem of her pink, scoop-necked sweater and tickled her stomach. Once she’d squealed and batted him away, he continued. “Haven’t you read the bylaws yet?”
“Three times. Used a highlighter.”
“Of course you did.” Fitz should’ve known better, because he knew her better by now. The budget spreadsheets made her eyes glaze over, but she still studied them. Hallie didn’t cut corners when it came to educating herself.
“I assumed it was like being president—some things don’t get divulged until after you’ve taken the oath of office.”
That was freaking hilarious. “Like you said, I’m the mayor of a small town. What kinds of secrets do you think we’re hiding?”
And now Hallie was the one convulsed in giggles. “Really? You know how much I read, and you’re seriously going to ask me what I imagine might be kept from public consumption?”
He’d enjoyed the Harry Potter series as much as anyone in their generation. However, Fitz didn’t think for a second that wizards blended into the population in plain sight. He wasn’t so sure Hallie shared his conviction… Better nip that in the bud.
“I’m telling you right now, on my honor”—he covered his heart with his hand—“that there’s no portal to a magical world under the swan pond.”
“What about a dead body, weighted down with rocks and perhaps mechanic tools?”
The woman constantly astounded him. “What the hell sort of books have you been reading?”
“Everything,” she said with a blissful sigh.
A sigh eerily similar to the ones she made when he was buried inside of her. Fitz tried not to take it personally.
