Doing It for Love (All About Love #1) (10 page)

My nipples tingle.

They need to stop that.

His hands run up my ribs.

My nipples buzz.

They zap.

They scream.

And his thumbs taunt back, right underneath my breasts, running lines across the lower wire of my bra. So close but not touching, so close but not touching, so close
but not touching,
and my nipples are getting so mad they’re yelling at my hands now.
Grab his damn thumbs!

“You shut the hell up,” I tell them, then press hard against Landon’s chest to try to get them some relief, but it doesn’t work. It just makes it worse. I’m about to grab them myself, but Landon’s mumblings finally compute in my head.

“I want you,” he growls, setting my loins ablaze. Hell yes, just take me right here in this director’s chair. His teeth press into my bottom lip, pulling and pulling, and I bury my nails in the back fabric of the chair, panting and moaning and yelling at myself to hold out for a few more seconds. Just a few more!

“I want you,” he says again. He grabs hold of my shoulders, nuzzles into the crook of my neck, hot breath washing over my flushed chest, and my nipples perk up like the key to Chocolateville is dangling over them. I almost say, “Just do it, damn it,” but he may count that as me losing, so I grind my teeth together, slam my eyes shut, and force my sweaty body to stay perfectly still on his lap.

He shifts underneath me, and I’m about to admit defeat. I can vacation in Utah, and even though I won’t see him in board shorts, warm and tan on the beach, I’ll see him looking pretty damn fine while in his movie element.

But then a heavy hand presses against my left breast.

My eyes fly open, and I can’t help but throw my fists in the air and shout, “I win!”

Sweet mother,
I won.
I’ve been stressed out from my Hurdles—the in-laws, getting extra hours, setting up meetings with my mom, and booking venues, and that doesn’t even cover half of what I have to do for this wedding.

And it’s all about to be unleashed on him.

Except…he’s laughing.

Laughing so hard I’m nearly knocked off his lap.

I drop my arms and my gaze. Landon lifts his head, laughter breathy and gray eyes wet with amusement.

The hand on my boob is not Landon’s. It’s a zombie mannequin.

“Agh!” I scream, and I topple to the floor. He’s still laughing, and when I get ahold of myself I start swatting at his legs. “Damn you!” I’d take that handsy mannequin and flip him off if it wasn’t missing that finger.

Landon recoils from my flimsy hits, and his hat falls to the floor behind the chair. “That’s what you get, Tumbles.”

“I almost had you, admit it.” I fall back and toss the fake arm to the side. Landon lies down next to me and we both catch our breath. After a few minutes and a few hundred calls on his cell for being so late from the “ten-minute break,” Landon leans up on his arm, his smile lines looking extra adorable.

“You did.”

I shove his face away. Damn him.

OCTOBER

“I’m going to lose.”

I slam my head down on the table at The Cheesecake Factory. It’s been two weeks since the handsy zombie, and that’s the only action I’ve had since. Landon still squeezes my hand, but he won’t kiss me beyond a peck hello and goodbye and the occasional thank-you. My lady parts are parched.

Theresa leans across the booth and bats at my ponytail.

“Stop moping.”

“It’s been a month and a half.”

“Some people go years, you know.”

“Not you.”

“I said
some
people.”

“What do you recommend?”

“A long shower.”

“Theresa…”

“I’m ordering you a slice of orgasm cheesecake.”

The dessert menu sticks to my forehead as I sit up. Theresa snatches it from my face and sets it at the edge of the table.

“It’s awful. I can’t even kiss him without wanting to set him free from his jeans and ride him like a bull.”

Ugh, even the visual makes me want to scurry out of here and into Landon’s call center and have him drive me up against a wall. Shit…

“When was the last time you
just
made out? Like without any wandering hands?”

The waiter chooses that moment to walk to our table. “Hello, welcome to The Cheesecake Factory, I’m Greg. Can I start you out with anything to drink?”

I slam my hands on the table, making the silverware jump. “I need cheesecake!”

Greg the waiter does really well at holding back his laughter as he looks to Theresa, who orders the orgasmic slices for both of us…and then starts flirting—I’m pretty sure just to torture me. I clench my teeth and breathe in deeply through my nose. I don’t get it. I went eighteen years without sex, I went over a year with longtime-relationship quickies, and yet I’ve never been this pissy.

Greg leans a little on the table, completely shutting me out while Theresa tries to get free food and a weekend date. I let my head fall to the back of the booth and try to remember the last time Landon and I
just
made out.

Second date, I think. He kissed me on our first, and it was pretty awful. I don’t know if he was nervous or
what,
but it was awkward and rushed, and after such a fun date it was a little surprising I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. But despite that, he took me out the following night and shocked me by kissing me hello. Like
really
kissing me hello. It left sparks from my crown to my toes.

“Oh!” I said, surprised. I’d been contemplating how kiss number two would go—worrying about it all day, actually.

Landon pulled away with a shy smile and a slight blush. “Sorry. My lips wanted to make up for last night. They were pretty embarrassed after their performance.”

“They weren’t that bad…”

“They also missed you. They’ve been tingling since they said goodbye.”

No one had ever said something so sweet to me. I’m pretty sure I said an audible “Aww.” See, I remember first kisses. I think that’s something everyone remembers, but the second kisses with previous second kissers somehow fade into the background. I can’t say where I was or how it felt or where their hands were or what time of day it was. But Landon’s was different. I don’t just remember kiss one, I remember kiss two, almost more clearly.

I reached up and turned his cap around. It was his Beetlejuice one, and it wasn’t faded then. It was just past six, the sun was set, and most of the light was from the snow reflecting the streetlamps. Landon’s car was running, smoke spilling from the tailpipe, quiet music filtering out of the open car door. His hands found my coat pockets, my lips found his lips, our butts found the backseat.

“Ouch, hang on,” he said when I landed on top of him. He wiggled out of his coat and helped me out of mine. It was chilly at first, but heated back up again as we really explored the way we kiss for the first time. If his lips had an awkward opening act, they killed it for the encore. I remember thinking I’d never been kissed like this before, and never
ever
had I wanted lips to perform against every inch of my body so badly.

Landon’s hands gripped my hips, and mine tangled in his hair. He started asking me questions between kisses.

“What’s your favorite color?”

I went with it, way too buzzed to care why he was asking anything.

“Red. What’s yours?”

“Red too. Do you have a job?”

“Yes, but I want a different one.”

“Me too. Beer or wine?”

“I don’t drink. I’m eighteen.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t drink
regularly.
”

“Okay, Coke or Pepsi?”

“Coke. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“You don’t look like it.”

“I don’t act like it, either.”

“Why the questions?” I finally asked. The windows were so fogged I couldn’t even see the car parked next to his.

“I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to get in your pants. I want in your brain, too.”

“You are getting closer to the keys that unlock both of those.”

We started testing boundaries then. His hands moved up. Mine moved down. Pretty soon we didn’t need our shirts to keep warm. I had my very first orgasm not by my own hand that night. Oh, so I guess that make-out doesn’t count…

Theresa laughs, taking me out of my thoughts and back into our dessert. Greg
finally
decides to go place our order, and I lean in and say through my teeth, “Never.”

“Huh?”

“Landon and I have never
just
kissed.”

She blinks, then her brain catches up with mine. “Not even the first time?”

“Well, that time we were only lip to lip, but after that, I mean, Landon and I are handsy, I guess.”

That and when we started hard-core making out, hell, why not go all the way? Even if it is a quickie during a commercial break.

“Then figure out where to put up your stop signs.”

“That’s it. I can’t. I just want him to keep going, and I think he wants to keep going, but he won’t because he doesn’t want to lose, and I won’t because
I
don’t want to lose, then he pulls away and he’s…and I’m…and then we’re both…”

“Unbearable.”

I chuck my straw wrapper at her. “I was going to say on edge.”

She pulls her dark curls back, snapping an elastic band around them. “Just give in. Go to Utah.”

My eyes narrow. “I will
not.
”

She laughs and sits back as Greg brings us water and our cheesecake. I’m into it so fast I nearly stab him with my fork.

Oh, sweet loving monkeys.
It’s like a natural shot of endorphins straight to my hypothalamus.

Theresa kicks her feet up next to me on the seat, taking the daintiest bites possible, while I’m seconds away from nose-diving into the raspberry sauce.

“You should propose, like, a once-a-month deal.”

“I can’t do that,” I say around the soft cream-cheese goodness. Do they make this stuff with hormone drugs? “He’ll totally rub it in. And seriously, this was
your
idea. Why are you not backing me up?”

“Oh come on. I have flimsy ideas all the time. Like you.”

She’s
got
to be kidding me.

I. Am. Not. Flimsy!

Sure, I went into theater classes and quit that.

And I spent exactly two days learning piano.

And maybe I try diets for about twenty seconds before I see a burger I must devour.

But that’s normal. I can stick to my guns when I want to.

“Well, I’m
fine,
” I say, wiping my finger across my now-empty plate. “I can stand another three and a half months. It’s not even that bad, really. And I can commit, damn it. I’m getting
married.
Do flimsy girls get married? Hell no! So if I want to wait to hump my crazy sexy fiancé into oblivion, I will do it! I’ll show you guys Elizabeth Fanning is not a flake!”

Theresa’s mouth is wide open, slight smile in the corners, and her palms are up.

“Okay, Liz. Step away from the fork.”

I breathe heavy, looking down at my hand clutching my utensil like I’m about to gouge the next person who walks by. Several patrons are looking at me—a pair of old ladies are giggling and winking. A couple of freshmen from NYU stare blatantly at my boobs. And a mother covers her ten-year-old’s ears.

“Oh, balls,” I say, dropping the fork and resting my forehead in my hands. “What is happening to me?”

“Eat more chocolate.” Theresa shoves her plate toward me.

“You can’t have sex with chocolate.”

“You can, but it gets messy.”

An image of Landon covered in Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup plants itself in every thought recess, and suddenly I’m adding whipped cream, raspberries, and my legs clench together under the table.

“Damn it. You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“Oh!” She slaps her hands on the table, jolting me in my seat. “Let’s find your dress!”

“It’s depressing enough with my lady bits on lockdown. Now you want me to go look at gorgeous dresses I can’t afford.”

“Don’t think about it. Let’s just browse.”

Even though it’s probably the last thing that’ll help my terrible sex-deprived, penny-pinching body, I let her drag me from the booth and out to the car. She taps on her Google Maps app, and I sit in the front seat, contemplating the many ways I could cheat and relieve some of the pressure.

But I’ve never been a good liar. Landon would see right through my satisfied face…and the fact that I’m not snapping at him every time he says…well, anything.

“There’s a place about twenty minutes away.”

“Whatever.”

“Geez, I’m buying you more chocolate.”

She pulls into a gas station and gets me a huge Symphony Bar, and I jam it into my purse. I’ll save it for after I look at every dress that is so out of my budget.

We pull up to a shop with sleek black and white paneling, and I give Theresa a look that I know I should feel bad about, but I’m too “unbearable” to care. There is no way I’ll be able to afford anything inside those doors.

“Make sure your left hand is front and center,” she says as we hop out of the car. I twist my ring, liking the extra weight, and for two seconds I feel like my normal self. Until we walk in and see one—and only one—rack that says,
ON SALE! DRESSES UNDER $999.99
.

I’m going to need a bigger candy bar.

Theresa covers her huge grin, eyes lingering up and down the bodice of this unbelievably beautiful dress I told her she’s not allowed to like because the tag says, “$First Born Child.”

“It’s hideous,” she lies.

“I knew I shouldn’t have tried it on.” I’m never going to take it off. My fingers tumble down my stomach, over the satin, the lace, the red flowery seams. “Maybe they’ll take a Starbucks card.”

“You’ll just have to save up for it.”

“That and everything else.”

Theresa fixes the veil atop my head, gently admiring the tiny red flowers jeweled along the hem. I flick my gaze back and forth between my best friend and this gown I’ve only seen in my wildest dreams. It makes me look like I’ve been dropped from the heavens. I could be plastered on magazines titled “Goddesses Do Exist!” I don’t want to take off this magical material that has transformed the unbearable shrew into the fairest of them all.

And my
ass!
It’s never looked so awesome.

“Oh, wow,” I hear behind me, and I look over my shoulder to a dimply woman with wild brown hair gazing admiringly at me on my tiny pedestal. “That dress is gorgeous on you.”

And if I hadn’t gone bat crazy before, I do now, slamming my face into my hands and shouting through muffled sobs, “I know!”

Theresa holds on to my shoulders, and I see through my fingers her making a lack-of-money gesture at this poor woman who is now witness to my mental breakdown.

“Goodness, I’m sorry,” she fumbles, adjusting the bright green bridesmaid dress over her arm. “I understand, though. When I got married I had to wear the cheapest gown I could find. It wasn’t the one I wanted, but if it’s any consolation, out of all the things that happened that day, the second-best dress was the least of my problems.”

Oh, that’s just
fabulous.
My shoulders heave as another wave of crazy sobs cascade through my body. The lady starts waving her hands as if she didn’t mean to make things worse, but sweet mother of pearl, what else am I to expect on what is supposed to be the most epic day of my life?

Theresa continues to rub my arms, trying to calm me down, but there is no way in hell that it’s going to happen. I need Landon. I need cuddles. I need touchy-touchy kissy-kissy.

The woman takes a step toward me, bends down, and fixes the long train. “Did you get this in the winter department?”

Theresa nods for me, grabbing a conveniently placed box of tissues on a table near the mirrors.

“When’s your date?”

I clear my throat, take a Kleenex, and dab at my nose. “January fifteenth.”

Her face brightens. “Well, if you’re not in a hurry…this store always does a winter sale. Every winter bride gets a discount, and all winter dresses are marked down. So knock a couple zeroes off the tag. If the dress is still here, that’s probably what it’ll cost.”

I blink a few times, stare at her as if she’s gone crazy with me. But she just gives me an awkward smile.

“Seriously?” I croak.

She nods. “It’s a way for them to clean out their winter stuff so the spring line can come in. My sister-in-law wanted a fifteen-hundred-dollar dress, waited a couple weeks for the sale, and got it for five hundred.”

I grasp onto Theresa to keep from falling off the pedestal.

“It’s a long shot…the dress may not be here, but it may be worth the wait if it is.”

My eyes narrow, because this all sounds too easy, too convenient, too much like she’s spouting bull to make up for making me cry.

“You’re not just trying to get this dress for yerself, are ya?” Suddenly the Georgia accent I’ve sort of lost over the past few years comes back, and I’m pointing an accusing finger at her. “Tell me this so I don’t buy it, then ya’ll come in and swipe it from under my nose.”