“If you don’t stop that, sir, you’re going to have to pull the car over,” I warned, setting my hand on his to stop the motion.

“I fail to see the problem with that.” He carried on, ignoring my request.

Smiling back, I volleyed the one threat that I knew would get his attention. Leaning over, I brushed against his arm and whispered into his ear, “The faster we get there, the faster we get back home and I get to try out your clean, close shave.”

He suffered through a full-body shudder. “You’re not playing fair, Roxie.”

No, I wasn’t. But he wasn’t either, picking me up and looking like the Wolf of Wall Street.

“What can I say? It’s been a long and lonely week,” I admitted, giving him a quick kiss while we were stopped at a red light.

He lifted my hand and kissed it gently, smiling and making my heart do a thundering flutter. “I missed you too.”

Bomb dropped, he stepped on the gas as the light turned green.

Meanwhile, I was a bundle of holy shit. Breathe in. Breathe out. He missed me. He missed me!

Summer lovin’, holy fucking shit . . .

Tonight felt like there was a lot riding on it. I wasn’t nervous, per se. More like confused, excited, and a little apprehensive—this was an official coming out of sorts. He’d been much more open, more touchy-feely, more all-out-grab when others were around lately. A brush across my cheek here, a pinch and a tickle there, drawing every eye to us.

I wondered if it would be more of the same tonight. Judging by the cinema-worthy kiss he delivered . . . I would wager that would be a yes.

As the car crunched over the gravel driveway, I barely felt a bump—a testament to the amazing craftsmanship of the Mercedes. Lines of cars were already here, and the driveway was lit up with solar lights that led the way to their newly painted bright red door.

When I came here for the painting party, Leo and I weren’t a thing. Now we were, and were announcing it to the town. Shit, wait, what were we announcing? Were we a thing?

Leo pushed a button to shut off the car. This was some serious techno stuff—no key, just a button.

“Are you ready?” he asked, turning toward me. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he twirled the end between his fingers.

“As I’ll ever be,” I answered. I moved in and gave him, one, two, three pecks on the lips.

He groaned when I finally pulled away, his lips chasing me halfway back across the console. “If I don’t get out of the car now, I’m taking you into the backseat, and I don’t care who witnesses it.”

I looked at the number of people milling about the driveway. It appeared that most of the town would be getting quite a show. “Later. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Satisfied, he adjusted himself and hopped out of the car, then circled around the front to open my door. He held out his hand and helped me out, his eyes never leaving mine.

They said so much, held so many filthy promises, that I was tempted to toss him onto the front of the car and mount him like a hood ornament.

“You’re here!” Chad shouted, coming down the stairs with two mason jars in his hands. Beautiful, fitting, and charming, they held some sort of punch with raspberries, mint, and ice floating around.

“We’re here!” I answered, as full of enthusiasm as he was. I welcomed the interruption, before we were tempted to put on an X-rated movie of Old MacDonald Had an Orgasm. A movie that, based on how good Leo was looking tonight, I’d be proud to star in.

Chad led us into the house, taking my hand as we walked through the front door. But no one was looking at his hand. No, ma’am. They were all looking at the hand that Leo had placed firmly and succinctly in the small of my back, announcing our relationship more publicly than if we’d arrived with his tongue down my throat.

Eyes widened, hands covered open mouths, and elbows jabbed to alert others. And I’m fairly certain that those who couldn’t attend were alerted via Facebook and Twitter, since people were snapping pictures of the happy couple.

The happy couple being us. Or at least one of us.

Don’t get me wrong, it was great, feeling so wanted. And Leo had no problem letting me feel just how much he wanted me. He came up behind me while Archie Bryant, fifth-generation son of the Bryant Mountain House, was telling me how much he’d enjoyed the coconut cream cake one of his chefs had purchased the other day from the diner, and he wondered if there might be an opportunity for us to work together.

An opportunity to work with the Bryant Mountain House? The place was legendary, iconic!

I nonchalantly told him yes, I’d be interested in talking about it, trying to keep from squealing. It was also hard to keep from squealing as Archie was incredibly cute. Wavy auburn hair, dancing blue eyes, and a quick smile made him easy to squeal over.

But beyond the squealing, I also had to keep from swooning, as Leo was behind me, announcing his presence with a very specific and very hard part of him pressing into my backside.

Fighting a blush, I thanked Archie for his interest and promised to go see him sometime.

Leo was good at this. I’d go left, and he was right next to me with the hand brand on my back. I’d go right and, you guessed it, he fell right into step with me. And no one was the wiser that he was rocking a silo in his pants while he was shaking hands and laughing at jokes.

This all should have annoyed me. I waited for the prickly sensation at my neck or between my shoulders when he’d run a finger down my spine . . . but it didn’t come. Only a deep desire to have him naked and underneath me at the earliest possible moment. And yeah, there was a part of me that liked being claimed so publicly too.