Page 141 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
I was so fucking tempted to bite him I had to clench my jaw to stop myself.
After pushing my theatrics as long as I could, I finally broke. I grinned and wiggled even closer so that George’s quaking back was brushing against the side of my chest. I wanted tofeelthat laugh. Wanted to be shaken apart by it. When George’s guffaws softened to chuckles, my heart threatened to beatright out of my chest. He wiped a tear away, struggling to get a solid breath in.
I glanced up, unsurprised to find that the Milton clan was watching us with obvious glee. EvenLaceylooked excited. God, they were as bad as June was. Or worse! Nosy bastards.
Instigators, all of them.
Though…I couldn’t be mad about it. Not when they’d all been right. George’s laughter was a testament to our compatibility. They saw it, just like I did. Theyknew. And sharing George’s joy with his family was a new kind of intimacy, maybe even more precious than having him down my throat, or being trusted to carry his weight.
Family waseverythingto George.
It would take an idiot not to see that.
“Shutup,” George grunted defensively toward said family, tossing another handful of sand fruitlessly in their direction. “Stop looking at me like that. Ilaugh.”
“Apparently.” Mrs. Milton looked pleased as punch, her giant blond hairdo bobbing. “A joke and a laugh—all in one day. Aren’t we lucky?”
There was a story there—but I didn’t get a chance to investigate. Unfortunately, while George had been snorting his head off, he’d twitched his leg—which meant that he’d accidentally broken through Mavis’s hard work burying it, his pale knee poking free of its sand prison.
“Stop. Making. Unca. George.Happy.” Unlike the rest of George’s family, Mavis wasnotpleased by the hand I’d had in George’s joy.
In fact, her body wasshakingwith fury as she glared fearlessly at me. I’d never incited the wrath of a toddler before, and frankly did not know what to do. Kids usually liked me. Actually, scratch that, kidsalwaysliked me.
“Ah—I’m sorry—” I said.
“Mavis, honey,” Lacey’s voice was a welcome distraction. “Why don’t you come help Uncle Joe bury the rest of Mommy?” Jesus that sounded dark out of context.
Mavis didn’t even give the decision a second thought. Apparently she was tired of my shit. Not George’s though, because she gave his cheek an adorable sandy peck before storming off, her sunhat bobbing.
“Sorry,” I murmured, leaning my cheek against the bare, sun-kissed skin of George’s shoulder. It was slightly sticky and definitely a higher temperature than usual. Baby had for sure gotten sunburned. Good thing I was here to rub aloe on it later. “I didn’t mean to scare her off.”
When George twisted to look at me, his eyes were dancing.
So not angry then.
“It’s fine. We played for a long time,” he said. It was like he’d reached inside my chest and squeezed right around my heart. “Don’t worry about it.”
I took a sip of water to give myself something to do—otherwise I was pretty sure I’d have pulled George right into my lap and had my merry way with him, audience be damned. It was getting increasingly difficult not to grab him. To grope him. To kiss that sweet, grumpy, joyous mouth.
I knew him intimately in a way I hadn’t the night before. And now that I’d seen that tasty little cock, I couldn’t wait to touch it again.
Glancing around, I noted the boathouse that was tucked between the edge of the lake and the woods, out of the way of the beach. There were dumpsters behind it. And it was off the beaten path. It looked like a good hookup spot. Secluded. And since the boats were out on the water it’d be entirely empty. Unbidden, visions of what exactly we could get up to in there assaulted my senses.
Namely, George trussed up with the rope June had handed me with a cackle before she’d left to join Roderick on the wave runners.
Calm yourself.
You don’t need to get a hard-on in front of George’s family.
But then George leaned into me. Of his own free will. He wiggled that sweet ass to the side and back, settling against my chest—stiff—but solid. I didn’t know what to do for a second, my dick waking right the fuck up despite my earlier protests.
When I glanced down I had to bite back a groan.
Yellow short-shorts.
He was wearing yellow short-shorts.
Even shorter than the ones he’d worn on the hike—the tiny shorts that’d made my brain want to melt right out of my ears. They left nothing to the imagination. Nothing. Barely covered his ass, Jesus Christ.
