Page 77 of Something Forever
My dad reaches into his pocket with a smirk. “Well, I’ve got a little something else we could do.” He pulls out a joint and a lighter.
“Oh my God, Dad. Seriously?”
“What? It’s legal here.” He turns to Whitney. “What do you think, daughter-in-law of mine. Should we toke it up?”
Something close to a snort escapes me, but when I see Whitney shrug across the table, my smile drops.
“Sure, I’m down. I haven’t smoked in a while, but I’d take a hit or two.” She presses up from the table, sliding her chair back. “Let’s go on the balcony.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re going to smoke?”
She cocks her head, her hand on her lip. “You got a problem with that, babe?” She tacks on the last word like a challenge, and my dad whistles like I’m in trouble.
It’s all terribly annoying.
“You were sick today. You probably shouldn’t,” I reply.
“You’re my husband, Liam, not my keeper.” She struts ahead of my dad, and I follow. I should feel chastised, but all I can focus on is the word husband coming from her lips, and how badly I want to sink inside her and make her call me that over and over.
“Watch yourself, Li. She’s got you by the balls,” my dad whispers, grinning.
This is going to be a long weekend.
29
WHITNEY
Ishould not have smoked that joint.
I haven’t smoked in years, maybe even since college. It’s not something I usually do, but I thought it would help me relax. Instead, I coughed for so long that I thought I was dying. Liam was nice enough to get me a glass of water, his eyes watching me carefully. I had to wave him off and remind him that I’m not a breakable thing. I’m fine.
Besides being way too high.
And way too turned on by Liam.
We only smoked half of it before I dissolved into a fit of laughter over Andy’s pronunciation of apartment that lasted a solid three minutes. Now, we’re settled on the couch watching Love Island. Liam’s got my feet up on his lap, his hands resting on my legs. His thumb is drawing soft circles against my calf, and the tiny motion should not be sending such an intense rush of heat through me, but it does. Every brush of his thumb on my skin feels like he’s branding me.
Mine, it says.
“Don’t you hate that Michael bloke? He’s playing a game,” Andy says from the other side of the couch.
“Yeah,” I croak out. “He’s the worst.”
Andy glances towards us. Liam’s laser-focused on the television. He hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down. Even though his hands are on me, his mind is clearly elsewhere.
“Well.” Andy slaps his thighs and stands. “I’m beat. Gonna call it a night.”
Liam snaps out of whatever daydream he was in and looks at his dad. “You sure?”
“Yep. See you in the morning!”
Before Liam or I can respond, Andy’s gone. The slam of his door rocks through the apartment, stilling Liam’s movements. His hand still rests on my ankle, but neither of us moves.
I clear my throat. “I guess we should go to bed, too.”
“You still stoned?” he asks, his voice deeper than usual.
I chuckle. “Only a little.”