Page 91 of Truth or More Truth
I shake my head again. I can’t let it fall apart. My heart is already too invested.
She gives me a soft smile as she moves her hand down to my chest. “I kind of like this insecure side of you. It shows me you’re not perfect. But I like the usual confident, take-charge side of you, too. Let’s try to go with that one most of the time, OK?”
“Deal.” Then I seal that deal with a kiss that elicits a whoop from Estella when she brings our drinks.
“What did I tell you?” she asks Melissa. “Charmer!”
We both chuckle at her declaration, and we chat with her for a few minutes before she moves on to the next table.
“Is there anything you want to do here in Miami before we head to the condo?” I ask Melissa. “Have you been here before?”
“I’ve been to the Keys a few times,” she says, “but I haven’t spent any time here in the city. Maybe we can drive around a little before heading to the condo? And I’d love to go dancing somewhere tonight—not like a usual club, but a place with salsa dancing and that kind of thing. You up for that?”
“Up for spending a couple of hours with you in my arms?” I smirk at her. “I think I can handle it.”
Melissa’s cheeks flush when she asks, “Have you thought more about whether you’d like to spend all night with me in your arms?”
My hand makes its way to her thigh. “I have.” It’s a big stepfor us—for me, in particular—but I’ve decided I don’t want to keep holding off if she doesn’t want to. “And I would like to. With our long-distance situation, I’m not afraid the physical stuff will take over our relationship and keep us from also truly getting to know each other. We’ve already spent a lot of time talking, and we’ll keep doing that over the phone. But with the limited time we get to spend together, I’d like to explore the physical side of our relationship.” I squeeze her leg. “But only if we’re on the same page. If you’re not ready, then we’ll wait.”
Melissa cups my cheek in her hand. “I’m ready.”
thirty-seven
. . .
The dancing and our overnight activities were nothing short of magical. I’ll spare the details, but it’s clear neither of us regret our decision. To me, it reveals Bobby decided to go all in on us. He’s not holding back any part of himself, and I’m glad for that. I know he’s nervous things won’t work out—not just for our sake but also for Kelli. But like I told him yesterday, it’s not going to work if he thinks it won’t.
“You ready?” he asks as we pause for a moment outside the luxury suite he and Diego rented at the football stadium. I can’t begin to imagine how much it cost.
I squeeze his hand. “Bring it on, B.S.”
“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he says, “my middle name actually is Sebastian.”
The laugh that spills out of me is more of a snorting fit. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Fitting that my initials really are B.S., right?”
I tilt my head up and kiss his cheek. “You’re not full of it, Bobby Joe … I mean Bobby Seb. Everyone knows you’re a straight shooter.”
“As straight as they come,” replies a wry voice from behind us. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Jimmie Zane, but I turn anyway.
Jimmie takes my hand and presses his lips to my knuckles. “Melissa, it’s an absolute pleasure to see you again.”
“Knock it off,” Bobby says with a roll of his eyes.
“Dude, I can’t win with you,” Jimmie complains. “If I’m rude, I’m wrong. If I’m polite, I’m wrong. What do you expect me to do?”
“He makes a great point, Bobby.” I shrug. “Maybe cut him a little slack.”
“Fine.” Bobby huffs. “Polite is the way to go.”
“Thank you,” Jimmie says with only a trace of sarcasm in his tone. “I appreciate your opinion on the matter.”
“Sure you do,” Bobby bites out as he shows the stadium worker our tickets and leads us into the suite.
Jimmie wastes no time heading to the in-suite bar and ordering a beer.
“Little punk kid,” Bobby mutters. “I don’t know why I put up with him.”
