Page 87 of Her Football Star Ex

When I pulled into the garage, Vincent parked his truck right behind me on the driveway. By the time I had grabbed my coat from the passenger seat and climbed out of my car, he was already standing there next to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice coming out higher pitched than normal when I noticed his disheveled look. He was still wearing his suit and overcoat, but his tie was gone—with the top button of his dress shirt undone. And his dark hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it on the drive here.

But instead of explaining why he’d come over, he just grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door that led into the house.

Once inside, he shut the door to the garage. But he didn’t flick the lights on as expected. Instead, he just stood there in the darkness, his chest heaving, and said, “I know we already said good night, but I forgot to do something.”

“You did?” I swallowed, the words sounding more like a gasp.

“I did.”

I couldn’t see a whole lot in the darkness, but I saw his head nod up and down.

He kissed the top of my head and his fingers slipped up my arm, along my shoulder, and behind my neck. With his lips hovering just over mine, he whispered, “I forgot to do this.”

And then his soft lips gently pressed against mine. Once, then twice. Then again and again. He tasted like mint and happiness, and as he kissed me, shock waves went from my head and all the way down to my toes.

Finally.

I dropped the coat I’d all but forgotten I’d been holding and reached up to take his face in my hands. His jawline was freshly shaven, the skin so smooth and warm beneath my fingertips.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming over,” he said, his voice so low and raspy it made my insides melt.

“Definitely not,” I mumbled back, my heart swelling in my chest over the fact that he too must have been thinking about kissing me earlier.

He’d probably just been hesitant after what happened the last time.

I let my hands travel down from Vincent’s face to the lapel of his overcoat and pushed it down his shoulders, needing to feel more of him without the bulky fabric between us.

“Is that okay?” I asked.

“Yeah…” He sighed, sounding breathless. And I loved that I could still make him sound breathless after all this time.

I ran my hands under his jacket, along the thin fabric of his white button-up, feeling the solid contours of his chest and torso, loving how his body felt.

He responded by letting his fingers trace their way down my sides, rubbing his thumbs along my ribcage then squeezing my waist with his hands until they smoothed their way along my back and pulled my body closer to his. He was all lean muscle. And when he pressed me against the wall and flattened his body against mine, I could barely get myself to breathe.

Our bodies this close together felt incredible.

And I had missed this closeness so much.

I let my hands slide up his stomach and explore his torso. He was somehow stronger than he'd been a year ago, and I reveled in the feel of his muscles beneath my palms as his heart raced so fast it was probably keeping pace with mine.

His lips left my mouth to explore my throat, and my head fell back because his lips on my skin felt amazing. I let my hands explore the lines of his body, the tightly corded muscles just beneath the sleeves of his jacket.

"How is it possible I went so long without kissing you?" he asked, his voice husky and his breathing heavy like he'd just run a race.

"I was just wondering the same thing,” I said as I pushed my fingers in his hair and tilted his head up to bring his mouth back to mine. He didn't hesitate to close the distance between our lips again, but this time, instead of a fast and hungry kiss, he slowed it down and deepened it.

My stomach muscles tightened, electricity shooting through my veins as his kisses took me back in time. But my feet were hurting after a night of dancing in heels, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand in them much longer.

"I need to sit down.” I gasped as I pulled away, my chest rising and falling with my labored breathing.

Vincent’s eyes looked dazed for a moment before focusing again. He scanned the dark, moonlit room as if looking for a place for us to go. "You want to sit in there?” He nodded toward the living room.

“Yes,” I said, and then he was pulling me behind him like he couldn't get to the couch fast enough. He sat down, and I was about to take the spot next to him when he tugged on my arm and pulled me sideways on his lap. And before I knew what was happening, he was reaching his hand behind my neck and we were kissing again.

This was crazy. We were acting like a couple of hormonal teenagers—acting like we had when we first started dating.

---