Her head jerks back and she seems to wobble on her heels, so I wrap my arm around the small of her back.
She squeaks a little, but doesn’t form an actual word for a moment until she clears her throat. “I, uh. I’m a little confused,” she states, and I smile, raising a brow in question. “Are you just saying like, ‘I love this about you’? Or are you actually saying like, ‘I love you’? Because there’s a big difference. And my response to each of those statements is way different too.”
I pull her even tighter against me, molding her to my front as I lean down to rumble in her ear, “I’m saying, kitten, that I love you. I love every single, solitary thing about you. But most definitely, I. Love. You.”
I feel her nipples go hard as they poke into my abs, and she gives me her weight as she melts in my arms. “I love you too, Z.”
My chest swells, and after kissing her thoroughly, I pull back to look into her eyes. “See? Happiest place on earth,” I tell her, and she giggles.
We sleep in until checkout time at our hotel, and I wake up starving. I definitely worked off our dinner last night and then some, with all the different sexual adventures we tried at the club. I kind of feel sorry for the person who had to sanitize the room after us, because there wasn’t a single surface or item we didn’t use.
“What do you want to eat, kitten?” Z asks from the driver seat of his truck, and I think about it. Usually, I’m not one of those girls who takes a million years to decide what she wants to eat. I normally know exactly what I want for dinner, because I’ve been thinking about it since lunch.
“I’m thinking Bojangles’ sounds good. But I’m not sure what to choose. Do I go with the pork chop biscuit with mustard? The sausage, egg, and cheese? Oo! Or maybe the country ham biscuit. That sounds good. But damn, it’s salty. Whatever I get, I need to get a Bo-Berry biscuit for dessert. So maybe the gravy biscuit for my main meal,” I ramble.
Z looks over at me funny. He’s used to me being decisive with my food choices as well.
“Everything sounds good, so it’s hard to choose,” I defend. “And you know damn well I can’t pass a Bojangles’ without stopping for a Bo-Berry biscuit.” After a silent moment… “This is your fault. You’re the one who made me work up such an appetite.”
He grins. “Whatever you want, kitten,” he says, taking the next exit, which has a Bo not even a mile off the highway.
Two and half hours later—interrupted by a stop at a gas station, because I got super car-sick after the amount of food I devoured—we pull into a driveway out front of the most adorable one-story house surrounded by gorgeous oak trees.
I wasn’t nervous about meeting Z’s family until this exact moment. I had spent so much time talking to July, calming her down and telling her what a wonderful step it was that Wes wanted to introduce her to his mom that I hadn’t really thought about it myself. And all July’s worries hit me at once.
Is this too soon?
Are we moving too fast?
It seems like we’ve known each other for years, but in reality, it’s only been a short time Z’s been in my life.
Is his mom going to hate me?
Is she going to be like my parents, all judgmental of who I’ve picked to call mine?
And what about his dad? Z is intimidating enough as it is. What would it be like being around him and the man he probably got his burliness from?
“They’re going to love you,” Z breaks into my thoughts, either reading my mind or the look of pure terror on my face.
“How do you know that? Do they love all the chicks you bring home?” I question with a roll of my eyes.
He reaches over and tugs my chin until I’m looking into his hypnotizing eyes. “I’ve never brought a woman home to meet my parents before, kitten. I just know.”
“You’ve…” My chin wobbles against his knuckle. “You’ve never…” My lip trembles as tears swell in my eyes without spilling over. “I’m the first girl you’ve ever brought home? Like ever?”
His brow furrows. “Yeah, Kayan. You’re the only one who’s ever been worthy to meet them. They’re the best people I know in this world. Well, before I met you, of course.” My tears spill over and I sniffle, letting out a noise that’s a cross between a sob, a laugh, and a very unladylike cough. “What’s got you so emotional, baby?”
As he swipes my tears, I turn my face to press into his palm. “I don’t know. I’ve just never felt this way about anyone before. And to know you feel the same way about me… it’s just overwhelming. In a good way though. These are happy tears. I promise.”