Doing It for Love (All About Love #1) by Cassie Mae Page B

skiing, and we won’t want to leave the hotel for long anyway.
    Well, Landon will. He’ll be doing the film festival thing and talking “movie tech” stuff I don’t understand. I can handle it, but…it will be our honeymoon. How long is the festival? Will he have time for me if we’re there?
    Doesn’t matter. He’ll love it, and that’s important. I go to wiggle my butt against his erection—because I’m sure he has one—but I stop.
    He’d never let me live it down if I broke the rules first. I can hear him now. “See, Liz, you get excited about new ideas, then change your mind. It’s okay. I like that about you.”
    Not this time, buddy.
    Landon bites my earlobe, and I growl, roll out of bed, and snatch up my pillow.
    “What’d I do?” he asks. I ignore him. He knows damn well what he’s doing.
    “I’m going to the couch till you fall asleep.” I yank on the extra blanket, and he grabs it and pulls me forward.
    “Don’t leave.”
    “I have to.”
    “Why?”
    “Because if you keep kissing my neck, I’m going to lose.” A smile forms on my lips. “And that’s not going to happen.”
    He gives me a victorious grin. “Stay.” His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb runs over the apple of my cheek, and he leans in. My whole body buzzes and buzzes, and I know if he kisses me that’s it. I’ll jump on top of him and take it all the way.
    “Good night, babe,” I say, lightly pushing his sexy face away.
    He whines into the sheets while I bump the door with my hip on my way out. I can’t even walk straight.
    A chill goes up my spine when I settle on the couch. I wiggle around and tuck a blanket under my legs to warm up. Then I turn the TV on and put it on the bloodiest channel I can find. After stopping on Saw number who-knows-what, and seeing a guy get doused in pig guts for twenty minutes, I’m completely turned off.
    Light snores filter into the room, so I sneak back into the warm bed. Landon’s back is to me, rising and falling with deep breaths. I kiss his shoulder, then turn my back to him, cuddling with my pillow and our comforter. Oh, just imagine the rides I’ll get to experience on our wedding night. A victorious smile hits my lips now. I am the master of my own libido.

Chapter 7
    My phone buzzes off my nightstand, waking me from my colorful dream filled with paint and Landon and music. I groan, dropping my arm from the mattress and feeling around for the thing.
    “Hello?” I croak. What time is it?
    “Are you
engaged
?”
    “Mom?” I stifle a yawn, blinking up at the alarm clock: 7:42. Through my sleep-daze I hear the TV in the living room. Landon’s side of the bed is empty.
    “Elizabeth Ann. Are. You. Engaged?”
    Coherency catches up with me and I sit up, adjusting the pillows behind my back. “Hey, Mom. Guess what?”
    “Give me a solid reason why I found out from Facebook and not you.”
    “My friends don’t know how to keep quiet?”
    It’s silent for the longest minute of my life, and I start to panic that she hung up or she’s booking a flight to New York just to give me the mommy look. I can picture her now, clicking her nails on the kitchen counter or cracking eggs into a bowl just for something to do. She always makes eggs when she’s angry.
    “Are you pregnant?”
    “No.”
    “You swear it.”
    “I swear on Nana Gomomo’s grave.”
    It’s quiet, and I count twelve Mississippis before she talks again.
    “Your father and I need to meet him.”
    “I know.” I turn the phone on speaker and flick to my calendar, knowing she’s doing the same thing. “Landon’s booked with his movie for a couple of months, but he should be done by mid- to late October.”
    She makes a clucking noise with her tongue, and I find myself involuntarily doing it with her. “I’m showing houses until after Halloween. Were you planning on coming home for Thanksgiving?”
    “I don’t think we can afford it. Especially now that we’re going to save up for the