He looked back at the screen, and then to me again. “But you don’t speak Spanish.”
I blinked over at him with a glare and changed the channel. “I was reading the subtitles.”
Will tilted his head, eyes moving from the tips of my toes back to my face. “You look pretty.”
I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, and was actually starting to sweat a little. Why did I always decide to prove a point first and think about it later?
“Thanks,” I replied.
His hand curved around my ankle, his thumb brushing up and down along the top of my foot. Moving my foot away, I stood, turning toward the kitchen and trying to remember everything Chloe had told me about being sexy. I think I shook my ass, but it probably looked more like I had a charley horse.
“Do you want a beer—” I started to ask, but didn’t make it that far.
Will cracked up, bending over laughing before he tackled me back to the couch. “Are you trying to prove a point here, Plum?”
“Yes!” I shouted, trying to escape. “Admit you don’t think this is sexy. Admit it!”
“Are you kidding?” he said, tucking his head into my neck and covering me in kiss after kiss. He tickled my stomach and pushed my shirt up to my ribs. “It’s been long enough, I could absolutely do it again.”
“Are you serious?” I screamed, laughing and attempting to twist away from his fingers.
He kissed his way across my chest and down between my breasts, over my shirt. His fingers moved to the waistband of my panties and he slowly tried to peel them down my legs. Tried being the operative word because five pairs of underwear don’t really fit the same way as one . . .
“What in the actual fuck—” he started to say, tugging at the fabric.
“Just . . . Oh my God, Will—” I curled on my side, laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. He managed the first pair, holding them up victoriously before he went back for the second.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, attempting to pull them down without stretching them or damaging the elastic. “Are these on with some kind of adhesive?”
“No!”
“Okay . . . It’s possible this wasn’t my best plan. And will you hold still! It’s like trying to peel a wiggly onion!”
“I’m going to die of laughter and when the police finally get here I’ll still be wearing these hideous underwear. Why didn’t you just take them all off at once?”
“You can’t expect me to think when all my blood is in my dick!”
“I told you this wasn’t sexy. Admit that I was right and I’ll just go in and take them off. Admit that I’m smarter than you.”
“Oh, you’re definitely smarter than I am, and they’re definitely sexy,” he said. “I really don’t see a way I lose in this scenario.” He lifted my shirt off and over my head and took my breasts in his hands.
“We’re never going to be packed at this rate,” I said, watching as he took one nipple into his mouth, and then the other.
“I’d say I wished we would have hired someone, but this has been fun. Today . . .” He kissed my breast again and then looked up at my face. “Today has been pretty great.”
“And you’re not worried at all about losing this? When we move?”
Will shook his head, placing an elbow on either side of my head and looking down at me. “Absolutely not. It’s always fun with you. Remember San Diego for Ben and Chloe’s wedding?”
“You mean when we barely left the room?”
Will grinned. “Exactly. You’re going to kick ass at Harvard and be the most amazing professor they’ve ever had. I’m going to figure it out with Max, maybe even open a second office, and we’ll make things work. Just like we always do, Plum.”
I gripped his hip, pressing into the H he had tattooed there, and realized he was right.
This? Was a constant. We could move halfway around the world and nothing would change.
We were going to be just fine.
Seven
Will
Max and Jensen patted the table with their hands, a rumbling drum roll.
“How was the honeymoon?” Sara asked, and everyone groaned.
“I don’t care about the rudding honeymoon!” Max play-yelled. “I hear enough about their sex life on a normal day. Tell me where you’re moving.”
“I can’t take it,” Chloe said, gripping the sides of her chair. “I swear to God I am going to lose my shit in a violent way if you’re even thinking of moving to the West Coast.”
“We’ve decided,” Hanna said to the table, “and we are moving to . . .”
She looked over at me, and in unison we proclaimed, “Cambridge!”
A chorus of cheers rang out, with everyone congratulating us both, congratulating Hanna on landing Harvard. We raised our arms in a toast, glasses clinking loudly.
“Boston?” Chloe said when she returned her wineglass to the table. “That’s like two hundred miles.”