Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 31

31

DARIUS

H oly shit…That wasn’t a dream.

I blink awake and find Ziggy, splayed across my body and her messy hair tickling my nose.

I take stock of our positions. I’m sweaty. She’s sweaty. Our skin is sticking together. It’s like, at some point overnight, fire melted us into one. Every part of my body aches from passing out on this lumpy couch or mattress or whatever it is.

But despite that, I have no desire to move a muscle, because having Ziggy in my arms is so goddamn perfect.It’s the only thing I need.

I lay here, content with burning to death as I relive the events of last night.

When I dove into her moving bus, I never had the intention of taking things this far. But after one hot kiss, I lost all my senses, and for once in my too-serious life, I was so grateful to just let go. To flow with the moment. To give in to what I really wanted.

Ziggy. She’s what I wanted last night. She’s all I need these days .

More and more, I’ve been asking myself, what is this thing she makes me feel? I’m starting to think it’s love. I think I’m in love with her. That feels like the appropriate label for it.

And now that I’m holding her in my arms, I’m not sure I ever want to let go.

Y’know what? It’s decided. I’m not letting her go. My brain is already trying to come up with a scheme to keep her here in my arms forever and ever.

But before I can devise a plan, my belly growls. Loud . It’s not like a little growl. More like a hungry, feral lion.

It’s so loud that Ziggy startles, squeaks, and then falls onto the hard floor with a thud.

“Holy shit. Are you—?”My arms dart out to grab at Ziggy, but then I sit up too fast and smack my head on the flimsy shelf above the couch.

Biodegradable bowls and containers fall everywhere, raining down around me and clattering to the floor. I stretch my legs out, smack my shin on a table leg, and let out a groan.

Everything is so fucking tiny in here. I’m used to waking up in my spacious house across the yard. Not this tin can on wheels.

But this tin can has better company than my house.

My eyes fall back to my naked Ziggy, who’s sitting on the floor, blinking in confusion, and looking around.

Despite the mess of empty containers and endless loose lids, I manage to bend down and scoop her up into my arms.

“Are you okay?”

Ziggy rubs her naked butt, and I can’t fight the urge to push her hand away and rub it myself .

She smiles softly, still looking a little disoriented. “Yeah. I’m fine. Happens at least once a week.”

My stomach grumbles again.

Ziggy gazes up at me with amusement in her eyes. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” I admit with an embarrassed grin. “Sorry my belly woke you up.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She hops out of my arms, an adorable ball of energy, like she didn’t just fall out of bed and crack her butt on the floor.

“Okay! Let’s see what I’ve got here.” Ziggy scampers over to her tiny kitchen area, and stands on her tiptoes, giving me the best of all her rear end angles as she searches through her pantry shelves for food.

My eyes remain glued on her naked ass the whole time. I can’t help it. My stomach’s hungry for food, but the rest of me is just hungry for Ziggy.

I’m so distracted that I almost don’t even hear the options she’s offering me.

“How about a bowl of buckwheat porridge?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, or some buckwheat granola over yogurt?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Or, wait.” She does a little wiggle. “I could also make buckwheat with fried eggs and mushrooms? What sounds best?”

“Yes…” I’m trying to pay attention. I’m struggling here.

Ziggy turns around and glares at me. “Are you even listening to me?”

Without her beautiful butt taunting me, my eyes bounce to her perfect tits. Yum !

“Darius!!” She waves her arms, her eyes alight with a mix of annoyance and laughter.

I quickly snap out of my daze. “Wait—what?”

She plants a hand on her jutted-out hip and narrows her gaze at me.

Uh oh . Angry Ziggy is especially sexy with her naked ass cheeks.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say. “Let’s go to my place, and I’ll make you some bacon.”

Her face crinkles in displeasure. “Bacon? No thanks.”

I chuckle. Who doesn’t like bacon? But then again, Ziggy’s not like the rest of us. That’s what I like about her anyway.

“Okay. Compromise. Let’s go into town for breakfast,” I suggest.

She raises an eyebrow, suddenly looking nervous. “What? How is that a compromise?”

But I’m liking my idea. I just need to get her onboard. “Let’s go to the Pancake Village. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen buckwheat pancakes on the menu. Or maybe it was buckwheat crepes. Or buckwheat French toast. Or maybe even a buckwheat parfait.” I add with a laugh. “You could get one of each!”

Ziggy stands there, picking at her fingernails and hesitating. Why is she always so difficult?

“Damn. This is what I get after fucking you thoroughly last night? You don’t want to be seen in town with me?” I joke.

Or at least I’m trying to joke. But the look on her face tells me that I’m onto something.

Then it dawns on me. I realize too late that Ziggy believes that I don’t want to be seen with her .

My chest aches because that couldn’t be further from the truth .

But with the way that I treated her in the past, I can see how she may have come to that terrible assumption.

I climb to my feet and cross the space in a few large steps. I cup this beautiful girl’s cheeks in my palms. I speak slowly and softly, hoping to get her to really listen this time. “Ziggy, do you want to go to the Pancake Village with me? And before you answer, just know that—yes—I am asking you on a date. All the buckwheat you can eat, Fairy Girl.”

A slow grin curves across her lips. She leans in closer. Her breasts brush across my chest. It takes considerable strength not to reach out and massage her warm, naked globes.But this moment is bigger than sex and fooling around. I want to convey that I’m interested in her. For real.

“I’ll go on one condition,” she’s saying.

I feel my heart tingling with excitement. “Oh boy. What’s your condition?”

Ziggy’s smile grows devilishly and she points to her old-fashioned bike that’s hanging in the farthest corner of the bus. “Bicycles.”

My face falls.