Page 32 of Knotty Nights
“This is stupid of me,” I began, pushing her over until she was pliant beneath me, red-cheeked and sleep-warmed. “But I want more. I’ll take whatever you give me.”
There was a flicker on her face—hope, maybe, or relief. Her fingers slid into my curls, her nails scraping deliciously against my scalp.
“Hmm… Maybe I’m old school, but I like the idea of dinner and a movie.”
“Done.” I brushed my lips against hers to seal the deal. The insistent fist in my stomach loosened up a little.
“Oh wait,” I said as she attempted to deepen the kiss.
“What?” Her fingers stilled in my hair.
“A movie won’t work.” I licked her bottom lip playfully. “I’m not allowed to bring in any snacks… like you.”
It took her a second to get the joke, but when she did, she rolled her eyes.
“Are you always this cheesy?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. You’d best get used to it.”
She curled her thighs around my waist and squeezed me tight.
“I suppose I’ll have to.”
Her long-suffering sigh melted under my kiss.
Epilogue
JAZMINE
“I’m here!”
I looked up just in time to see Atlas dodge someone carrying a giant bucket of popcorn and almost slam into a candy display. She narrowly missed both and skidded to a halt in front of me.
Her curls stuck up at odd angles as though she had run all the way from her office. Knowing Atlas, she probably had.
She hunched forward, clutching her knees as she caught her breath.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said, her cheeks a healthy pink. “The meeting ran late.”
“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “Although we’re probably missing all the good trailers. Do you want some popcorn?”
She shook her head. “Got some protein chips in here.”
She patted her satchel.
Today, she wore what I half-jokingly called her work uniform: black low-slung trousers and a dark shirt that was unbuttoned at her throat.Oh,she smelled good…
I stepped forward, intending to give her a little smooch, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.
I pressed my lips together to contain a sigh.
“Rosie,” I said, turning to face my nosy daughter who had insisted on tagging along. “I’d like you to meet Atlas—again.”
Atlas held out a palm and Rosie took it in the most half-hearted attempt at a handshake.
“Thanks for not killing my mom,” she said.
“I would never,” Atlas retorted, only mildly offended by my daughter’s forthrightness.