Page 53 of Her Football Star Ex

"You think you’ll have any trouble remembering this?” he asked, breaking the lock his soft lips had on mine.

“I think I might need a little longer….” I sighed, trying to catch my breath, but it was coming in short little bursts. “To fully cement it in my mind, that is.”

Okay, I was probably being totally obvious in how much I was enjoying this last kiss with him, but at the moment, I didn’t really care. My mind had gone to that foggy, detached place where it didn’t care about anything besides getting more of this. More of Vincent’s lips on mine. More time with his arms wrapped around me. More us.

And as I let my logical mind take a backseat for once and had the rest of me just live in the moment, a realization came to my mind that I had only noticed small glimmers of before.

Maybe I didn’t want this to be our last.

But a thought like that was too big to consider when my mind was so caught up in the feeling of everything, so I pushed it back to the recesses of my brain and told myself not to worry about it.

I didn’t need to worry about little thoughts like that. And when his lips trailed away from my mouth to kiss the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, I stopped thinking altogether.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered, his voice husky and warm.

“You have?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him right.

He nodded and trailed kisses up my neck, along my chin, and back to my mouth. He gripped my waist, and before I knew what was happening, he turned us around and lifted me in the air. He set me down on his bathroom counter, and somehow, pulled me even closer until there was no space between his muscular body and mine.

Man, he felt good.

I let my hands slip along his broad shoulders, along the contours of his chest and down the length of his torso.

He was a work of art, really. The epitome of the perfect man that I still saw in my daydreams.

And I wanted more.

I slid my fingers along the hem of his shirt and let them linger on the warm skin above his hips. I imagined what he might do if I was to take off his shirt. Would he let me?

“What are you doing?” he mumbled against my lips. “This is just a kiss, right?”

It was supposed to be. But there was another last I suddenly wanted to experience with him.

“Emerson?” The word was almost a plea. But a plea for what?

I smoothed my palms along his lower back, trying to decide what I should do. Except my reasoning skills were almost non-existent at this point.

His hands traced their way down my sides. “We probably shouldn’t,” he said. “Right?”

And there must have been something about him saying somethingshouldn’thappen that triggered something from the past, because that was when an image of him kissing a woman with dark hair pushed its way into my mind.

Him and Victoria.

“Stop!” I gasped, pulling my lips and hands away from him like he had burned me.

He did as I said, lifting his hands from my hips and taking a step back as if he was being held at gunpoint.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes searched mine. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head, feeling a sob work its way into the back of my throat. “I can’t do this.”

I put my hand to my chest, feeling my heart rip apart inside of me.

I couldn’t breathe.

I literally couldn’t breathe right now.

Vincent’s eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong, Emerson? What’s going on?”

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