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“What if it’s a squirrel?” he counters

I gasp and flick my ice cream at him, and it lands on the side of his face “Our fictional baby isn’t a squirrel”

His eyes widen “Did you flick ice cream at my face?”

I smile sheepishly “Sorry—heat of the moment and all that jazz”

He’s not listening to s ice cream at me and it lands in my hair I look down at the blob of ice cream and lone blue M&M then back up at him

“Oh, it’s on”

And then we’re slinging ice creaoes everywhere, but for the moment, we don’t care about the mess, because the joy is in the now and the rest can wait until later

Sticky ice crea at that fact, but I don’t think I’ve ever had ht now so it doesn’t matter Xander’s just as much of ahis clothes, and even some stuck in the scruff on his cheeks We run out of ice cream and our cups fall to the floor The only sound in the space of the truck is our breathing and we stare at each other as the temperature rises

I think Ihim close to me

I press roans low in his throat His hand finds et as close to htly fro his tongue into nites with desire and he pulls me onto his lap The space is cramped, but neither of us seems to notice

His fingers press into h pressure that I won’t be surprised to find bruises in those spots in the

We’re so lost in each other that we don’t even realize so on theof the truck It takes a loud smack of their hand and for them to yell, “Hey!” before we notice them

The McDonald’s e her day I wonder if it’s the saina

Xander reluctantly rolls down the

“You guys need to go” She glares “Or we’re going to call the cops,” she warns