Page 63 of Pleasure Island
And what could breakfast hurt anyway?
She made bacon and eggs and served me up a plate before fixing her own. As she sat down across from me, she said, “I don’t want to stay inside all day today.”
“Okay.” Picking up a piece of bacon, I waited.
“I want to go out. Maybe do some shopping. And I’m craving pizza.” Her eyes lit on mine. “Do you like pizza, Liam?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Then it’s a date.” She grinned at me, then focused on her food.
* * *
Keepingup with Mila as she shopped proved to be a little more chaotic than I thought it would be.
I kept myself on alert, but every few minutes, she was asking what I thought about this item or that. Then we ended up in a boutique, and she started passing dresses for me to hold. “You’re buying all of these?”
“No…well, maybe. But I doubt all of them will suit me.” She winked. “I’ve got to try them on first.”
As we moved over to the dressing room, she said, “You must not spend a lot of time shopping with women.”
I shook my head.
“And to think I’m going to break you in on that too.” She swayed toward me, but I held myself back.
What we did inside her house was one thing. Out here in public was another.
She must have realized what was going through my mind because she huffed out a breath. “You’re so stuffy sometimes. How many times do I have to tell you to lighten up?”
“I guess a few more.” As she ducked into a fitting room, I positioned myself at the door and skimmed the interior of the store.
She popped out a minute later, wearing a slinky black dress that barely covered her ass. “What do you think?”
“It’s…nice.”
Mila rolled her eyes. “Can’t you do better than that?”
I wanted to grab the skirt and peel it away from her butt, palm that firm curve in my hand. But I couldn’t exactly do it here.
She must have read something in my eyes because she huffed out a laugh and fanned herself. “Okay, I’ll take that as a little better than nice.”
She slid back into the dressing room, and I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
I had to stay on track.
* * *
Hours later,we sat at the breakfast nook.
We’d spent most of the afternoon out shopping, and I could definitely say she’d broken me in. After three more clothing stops, Mila had accumulated four bags, and she walked along carrying two, while I carried the other two.
“I’m still getting a pizza,” she said to me as we swung around the corner of the street that butted up against hers.
I’d noticed the pizza joint when we’d left her house, located on the corner of the curb. “Will that work?”
“That was my plan all along,” she informed me.
Not long after, we sat down to eat at the breakfast bar, the steaming pie filling the air with the scents of cheese, sauce, and pepperoni.
