Page 59 of Sideline Play

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I glance down at my shoes and murmur, “I like when you mess me up.”

“Scar,” he groans, before threading his fingers through the tousled waves of my hair to cup the back of my head, his other hand sliding around my hip and grabbing my butt through the tulle to yank me flush against him, his body bending over mine as I arch up and back for him, welcoming the crash of his lips against mine.

Stumbling through the doorway, he pins me against the wall, tongue plunging into my mouth as I open up for him on a moan. With his fingers gripping and pressing into the muscle of my ass, I hike my leg up around his hip, whimpering as he sinks into the space between my thighs. Then as if he can’t get close enough to me, he untangles his fingers from my hair and grabs my other thigh, hoisting me up into his arms.

Breaking our kiss and peppering a line of open mouthed ones along my jaw and down my neck, he sounds desperate as he says, “I love you, Scar.”

Panting as his tongue paints across my collar bone, I return, “I love you too.”

“Promise, baby?”

“Yes; God yes, Remi. I love you.”

“Fuuuuck, I’m never gonna tire of hearing you say that.”

It’s as I’m pulling at his sweater, all thoughts of our date gone and replaced by the burning need to feel every inch of him along and inside my body, that Winnie whines from the corner of the room, dousing the heat between us.

“Fine,” Remi grumbles, slowly lowering me down his body and taking my hand. “We’re leaving, Winnie. Try to keep your friends from wreckin’ the house. No tigers, and no pooping in shoes.”

Looking at the mess that’s currently covering the bed I have plans for in a few hours as he starts to lead me from our bedroom, I protest, “But I have to?—”

“Don’t worry about it, baby girl.”

“But what about—” I try again, because there’s no way I’m going to want to wait for the time it takes to put it all away later only for him to interrupt again.

“Trust me, Scar. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” I slowly reply, reaching out to pet Winnie’s ears as she follows us to the front door.

I bend to kiss her nose before we go, and Remington snaps a picture of us on his phone, commenting, “New lock screen,” before kissing her as well and opening the door. Outside, he keeps a firm grip on my hand as we walk down the wet drive to his Rubicon. Then opening the car door, he lifts me up in a flurry of tulle, getting me into the seat and buckling me in, stopping tountuck my hair from the belt, then kissing me and shutting me in.

Handing me his phone once he’s in, he rattles off, “0-6-1-5-0-3,” making my lips part as I punch the password in and he starts the car.

“That’s my birthday,” I whisper, staring at a picture on his home screen of me reading on the balcony wearing only his sweatshirt with my feet propped up on the railing.

Putting his arm behind my seat as he looks out the rearview window to back out, he answers, “I know. Now put on my playlist for you while I drive.” He pushes the hem of my skirt up to rest his hand on my thigh once the car is in drive.

“How will I know which is mine?”

“You’ll know.”

Sure enough, the moment I open up his music library, I know. There, at the top of his Recently Added, is a playlist titled Baby Girl/Future Wife.

“Remi…”

“I keep telling you, Scar, I’m in this until the end. Now put on ‘Found You’ and shuffle from there.”

Leaning over the console, I kiss his cheek, doing as he says. Hearing the song for the first time, my eyes tear up as I watch his profile. The moment it’s over, I’m hitting the back button to play it again and making it my new ringtone for him.

TWENTY-FIVE

REMINGTON

From the ruffledstate of her loose golden curls to her delicate ankles adorned with bows, she’s breathtaking. A captivating image of sexy and sweet that I’ll remember for a lifetime. Each time I glance her way—my eyes continuously starving for more of her—I’m struck all over again. Temporarily rendered speechless and incapable of doing anything more than marveling over how brightly she shines. Full of gratitude and awe because she's with me. She’s chosen me. She loves me. And God, how I love her.

Parked in the makeshift lot, Scarlet takes my hand after I engage the brake, bringing my palm to her mouth. She presses kiss after kiss along the roughened spots, a hot shiver racing down my spine with each one. As each callus is touched and soothed by her lips, she turns my hand over and kisses my knuckles before clasping me between her much smaller hands, my fingers reaching well over hers and the width spilling out equally far as she uses her fingers to spread mine.

Even in the dim light of the nearby lamppost, her eyes sparkle as she looks at me, that soft smile gently tugging at her pink lips.

---