“You’re wrong. It’s something.”
“Yeah? I don’t know.” He swept the room with a glance. “What I do know is that this place feels like Josephine. It has your energy and spirit. Your love for golf. I can’t deprive anyone of that, even if I’m inclined to keep you all to myself.” A rigid line moved in his jaw. “We’re going to spend the next few weeks kicking preppy ass on the tour, belle, because I want this place to be exactly what you want. I need that for you.”
I’m in love.
I’m in love with Wells.
Oh . . . boy.
His ability to adapt and grow, his thoughtfulness, the way he cared about her without making her feel cared for. Now, his selflessness had rolled through and knocked her down like a set of bowling pins.
Strike.
“Are you with me, Josephine?”
“Yes,” she murmured. Then louder, “Yes, of course I am. Those preppies are toast.”
And so am I.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he said quietly, studying her beneath drawn brows.
Were they? On the same page?
There were still so many unknowns, but when he ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip and came toward Josephine, all those loose ends stopped flying wildly in the air and just kind of vanished.
For now.
“How long until we tee off at Lone Pine?” he asked, wrapping a gentle hand around her throat.
“Menty finutes.” She winced. “I mean, twenty minutes.”
One corner of his mouth jumped. “Flustered, baby?”
That was one way to describe the slow, delicious wind below her belly button, the need for friction making her nipples stand up straight. “Yes.”
His hand left her throat, sliding down to knead her right breast. “Why?”
Pops of light went off in her vision, a moan building deep, deep in her belly. “I like when you talk to me. When you’re honest with me.”
“Oh yeah?” His lips dragged side to side across Josephine’s. “I’m sorry you’re the only person in the world I like talking to, Josephine. That must be a lot of pressure.”
“I can handle pressure.”
“Good. I’m going to give you a lot of it next time your panties are off.”
A moan sung from her throat and he swallowed it with a hard kiss, his fingers pinching her nipples lightly through her shirt, drawing wetness between her thighs.
“There is no way I’m making it through eighteen holes of golf,” he said hoarsely, his tongue flicking into her mouth, before suctioning her into a hard kiss, making her whimper.
“I signed us up for nine,” she gasped.
He jerked Josephine up onto her toes, attacking her mouth from above. “Still too much.”
“Two?”
“One, Josephine,” he groaned. “I’m already hard just thinking about you teeing off.”
“Wells Whitaker,” she chided. “This is known as the gentleman’s sport.”
“Fuck being a gentleman.” He walked her backward toward a wall, bent his knees, and slowly worked himself up between her thighs in a grind that made them both cry out. “I’ve been daydreaming about licking your beautiful pussy since this morning.”
Everything inside her squeezed. “Let’s cancel our round.”
Wells pumped his hips and she screamed behind her teeth. “Should we?”
“Yes!”
“Nah,” he drawled, tracing the curve of her neck with his open mouth. “First two times with you, I was too keyed up for foreplay. Not today.” He sank his teeth into the slope of her shoulder. “Going to find out exactly how wet I can make my girlfriend.” Turned on to the point of frustration, she tried to wrap her legs around his hips, but he blocked them, shaking his head. “Not yet, belle.”
A protesting sound snuck out. “You really think I could hit a golf ball properly right now?”
He pretended to think about her question. “If you could visualize it, what would it look like, Josephine?”
She gasped in mock outrage. “How dare you turn my genius lesson back around on me?”
Without warning, a grinning Wells stepped back and tossed Josephine over his shoulder. He carried her out of the pro shop, smacking her butt soundly as they emerged and turned for the parking lot. “Maybe I’ve got a few lessons of my own up my sleeve.”
Chapter Thirty
When Wells and Josephine walked into the clubhouse at Lone Pine, jaws hit the floor.
Josephine didn’t have access to her sticks and Wells had left his own in Miami, so they were forced to rent—but the chance to watch Josephine smack a few balls was well worth the extra effort. It wasn’t lost on him that she’d stopped holding his hand in the parking lot—and he understood. As they walked through the lobby of the country club, past the bar and downstairs into the pro shop, every eye in the place was trained on them. Some people cheered, others wished them luck at Torrey Pines, but there was no way to miss the knowing expressions.