“Sure…”
“I don’t know what I’m doing though. Can you help?” I make sure my voice is low and sweet, like a fucking damsel in distress. But I’m not. This is war—yes, over mini golf—and I don’t intend on losing.
Kitt’s midnight-blue eyes are trained on mine. “I can help.”
He knows I’m playing, but he still puts his club down and comes over. The minute his chest presses against my back, I close my eyes. He takes a sharp intake of air and wraps his arm around my waist. His other hand starts on my shoulder and slowly caresses its way down until it covers mine. I feel goose bumps pebble under my skin at the contact.
Bugger, I’m supposed to win this.
Clearing my head from thoughts of having him take me back to the hotel, I say, “What do I do then?” Somehow, I manage to keep my voice steady.
His lips graze my ear with the gentlest touch. “Hold the club with two hands, here and here.” He places my other hand in position. “Then, swing back, and try to hit the ball.”
I slowly swing the club back, arching my back so that my butt presses into his groin. He groans, and his fingertips dig into my waist. It’s working. I look at him over my shoulder and smile. As I swing the club forward and strike the ball, I push back a little harder. Kitt’s short nails nip at my skin.
The ball rolls along the green felt and through the creepy clown’s head.
“Yay! That wasn’t too bad. Your turn, Kitt.”
I step away from him, and he takes a quick worried glance around before adjusting himself.
I have this in the bag.
Gritting his teeth, he places his ball down and whacks it in frustration. It slams against the clown’s cheek and rolls back.
I stretch my arms out and lean against my stick. Tilting my head, I say, “Oops. Want another turn before I hit mine home?”
He steps closer and glares. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Texas.”
“We both know exactly what I’m doing, and we both know I’m going to be victorious.”
“Fucking woman,” he grunts under his breath as I walk around to find my ball.
I’m really enjoying myself, mostly because I’m driving Kitt wild, but then in the space of five minutes, three people come over for photos and autographs.
Kitt puts his arm around a girl. In turn, she thinks she’s gotten the green light to feel my boyfriend up. She places her hand on his chest and smiles for the camera—the camera being her phone that I’m so very close to lobbing at her head. I click the button twice and hand it back to her.
“Thank you so much, Kitt! I love all of your songs! You’re amazing!”
And thank you, Texas, for taking the photo…
No? Fine.
“Thank you. It’s always great to meet a fan,” he says.
I stand at the side and watch with a smile. This is a part of who he is, and although I might not like it, I have to be okay with it. He’s not going to sleep with her or anyone else, so I let her have her two minutes.
Kitt finally says bye to her, and then his attention is back on me. It’s always back on me, and that’s what matters. He soothes that tiny jealous part of my soul with one look. It’s me he wants.
“I don’t want to leave yet, Tex, but…”
“I know. We can’t play if you keep getting stopped. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure we can find something there to keep us occupied.”
He steps closer and leans in. My eyes widen as I think he’s going to kiss me. We’re being watched now.
“I think you owe me for your behaviour today,” he says.
I laugh. “My behaviour? I think I’ve been very nice.”
“You know what you did. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide a boner in public?”
Playfully shoving his chest, I giggle. “Come on, big boy, let’s get out of here.”
He slings his arm over my shoulders. “If you think I’m ever going to forget you calling me big boy, you’re mistaken.”
“Hmm, maybe I was joking though.”
“Not in my head.”
Kitt grips the steering wheel as we head back to the hotel. Ted is in another rental car behind us. He kept his distance, and I don’t remember seeing him once, but that was probably due to the fact that I was lost in Kitt.
His hand rests on my leg, like it usually does when we’re alone. “So, when did you start to drool over me?” he asks, smirking.
He knows it’s been longer than since Christmas, but we’ve not had this conversation before in depth—for obvious reasons. Kitt does not need his ego inflating any more.
“Truth, sweetheart, yeah?”
Rolling my eyes, I twist my body to face him. I don’t want to lie because we’re supposed to be honest with each other. I’m not great at the touchy-feely stuff though, never have been. I was raised by my dad and the other two male members of his band. I was always encouraged to talk about what I was feeling, but they rarely did it, so I just followed suit.