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And when she makes a soft, half-stilted yawn, I kiss the top of her head. “Why don’t you lie down? Rest your head in my lap.”
Her green eyes look up at me, hesitant.
“I promise to behave.” It’s sort of the truth.
She scoots down. “You say that like it’s a good thing.” Then she’s resting her head in my lap with a satisfied sigh. “Forget I said that. I want to rest here for about forty weeks, if that’s okay.”
“Anything you want, baby.” I mean it to sound like a tease, but it comes out husky. I clear my throat and grab the remote to change the channel.
Absently, I stroke her hair. The wild curls are thick silk, springing around my fingers with a life of their own. The mass of dark red is so dense that I can only concentrate on a section. I let myself indulge; I’ve wanted to touch her hair like this for ages.
“You’re going to make me look like a clown,” she says quietly, but she’s not moving.
“Do you want me to stop?” The strands rub along my skin with pleasurable friction.
“No.” Her lids flutter. “Never.”
Which is fine by me. My favorite girl and my favorite movie. Sometimes life is good. It gets better when Anna smiles as the movie starts. “Top Gun. Excellent.”
“You like Top Gun?” I continue to run my fingers through her hair.
Her mouth curls, which pushes her plump upper lip out in that upside-down pout that makes me lustful. “Yeah.” She turns her head slightly to glance up at me. “Is that so surprising?”
Softly, I laugh. I’m warm all over now. “Everything about you is a surprise. But in a good way.”
She snuggles down deeper into my lap; I love the sensation, love feeling like I’m protecting her by providing a place to rest.
“So let me guess,” I tease. “The infamous volleyball scene turned you on to it?”
The leather squeaks as she rolls on her back, her head now fully cradled in my crotch, which has the expected effect on my dick. It stirs, and I will the horny bastard down. If she notices, she isn’t saying anything. Instead, she looks up at me with wide green eyes the color of holly leaves.
“Actually, it was Tom racing on his motorcycle.” Her smile is smug. “Where do you think I got the desire to buy my little Vespa?”
Inwardly, I groan in appreciation for the woman who appreciates all things automotive.
Then she shrugs, not meeting my eyes, as if she’s shy. “I used to fantasize about doing something like that.”
“What? Getting on a motorcycle and just riding off?”
Maybe I’ll do the same thing. Take Anna with me. As soon as this fucking leg heals. Panic touches the edges of my mind with black fingers. Her light laugh brings me back.
“Not quite.” Her hair pools against her shoulder as she turns toward me. “You ever watch Ewan McGregor’s series on motorcycling around the world?”
“Long Way Down, and so on? Yeah, sure.”
“I used to think about how fun it would be to document something like that, you know?”
She laughs again, an uncomfortable sound. “Or maybe it was the idea of following Ewan McGregor around. Iris has such a crush on him. Calls him her ‘cutie daddy.’”
I play with one of her red curls. “Bet you’d kick ass at film production.”
Anna’s cheeks pink. “I don’t know anything about film.”
“So, you learn. We all start off ignorant.”
She shrugs again. “Maybe.”
I place my palm against her cheek. “Babe, whatever you set your mind to doing, you’ll nail it. You’re so perfect and you don’t even know it.”
