Page 92 of Wildly Inappropriate

Lila

I’m just finishing upa chapter in my book when I hear a couple of soft knocks on my door. Assuming it’s one of the guys from across the street stopping by to see if I want to come over for their weekly friend dinner, I put a bookmark in and race barefoot across the floor. I throw the door open, ready to beg for five minutes to change. Instead, my heart stops when I see JT standing in the doorway.

My breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock. He looks different—his curly hair is gone, and he looks tired, maybe even a little lost—but still JT. The same JT I’ve known for years. The same JT I fell in love with.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I blink, not sure if I’m imagining this. I wasn’t prepared for him to show up, and certainly not here. He hasn’t responded to a single one of the ten books I’ve sent him in the last six weeks, and yet he flies across the country to show up unannounced at my house. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Finally, I manage, “What are you doing here?”

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us. About everything.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just watch him, waiting for him to continue. My heart is pounding in my chest, the old, familiar pain resurfacing.

“I know I hurt you,” he says, his voice low. “I told myself leaving was the right thing to do, that it was the only way I could focus on my game and earn the money my parents so desperately needed. But…the truth is, I was scared. I have so much guilt because of the sacrifices my parents made, and I just couldn’t have one other person give up their dreams for me.”

There it is. The same narrative I’ve been reading in every romance novel. The hero, broken and convinced he’s not enough for the heroine.

But this isn’t fiction. This is real life.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice trembling. “You did hurt me. And you didn’t even give us a chance to figure it out. You just…left.”

“I know,” he says, his eyes filled with regret. “I thought I was protecting you. But really, I was causing the exact pain I was trying to shield you from. I was too caught up in my own insecurities to see that pushing you away was the exact opposite of what I should have been doing.”

“It really sucked. I’ve felt like I wasn’t enough—like maybe your leaving meant I didn’t deserve the love I thought we had. I kept replaying every moment, wondering if there was something I could’ve done differently. If I hadn’t said anything about your parents…or said I love you too soon.” My voice cracks, and I hate how defeated I sound, because I’ve put a lot of work in the last few weeks combating those lies as soon as they enter my headspace. “You decided for both of us that we weren’t worth fighting for.”

“I know. And that’s what haunts me. I took the easy way out because I was scared and hurt, and I convinced myself it was for your sake when it was my insecurities. You deserved so much more than that, and I failed you. But I’m here now because I don’t want to fail you anymore. I want to face whatever comes, even if it’s hard, because we are worth it—you’re worth it. And, honestly, I’ve put a shit ton of money and time with my therapist for me to be able to believe that I’m worth it. I’m worth the sacrifices peoplechooseto make for me.”

He looks at me with a vulnerability I’ve never seen before. “I’m willing to put in the work, every day, to be the man you deserve. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’ll try.”

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. This is what I’ve always wanted, right? For him to fight for us. But now that it’s happening, I’m scared. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared of letting myself hope.

I asked him to come back with every book I sent him, every note I wrote him in the margins, every heart I drew around the quotes when the man would find his courage and come back to the woman he loves. I want to take the risk because if there’s even a chance we can make this work, it’s worth it. He’s worth it. We’re worth it.

“Good,” I say, the spark only JT can ignite in me flaring to life again in my soul. “Because perfect sounds boring, and let’s be real—we’ve never been boring a day in our lives.”

“I love you, Lila,” he says, his voice uncertain, not at the words themselves but at how I’m going to respond to them. Like maybe I’ve changed my mind since he’s been gone.

“I love you too,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I take a step toward him. He reaches out and cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spill over. He moves closer, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle at first, but as I respond, it quickly becomes something more. His hands roam down my waist, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other again for the first time in far too long. The taste of him sends shivers down my spine. It’s like I’m coming home while also experiencing the greatest adventure at the same time.

When we finally pull apart for air, he holds my face between his hands and looks deep into my eyes. “I’ve missed you so goddamn much, Lila.” His voice is raw with emotion. “I needed some time to figure myself out, but I promise I am all in.” He wipes away the tears still sliding down my face and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I lean forward and kiss him again, this time more confidently, our tongues tangling in a more desperate embrace.

I can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something else—something that makes me want to sink into his arms and never leave. He tastes like home and coffee and something vaguely sweet that must be from his travels. His stubble scratches against my skin as he kisses down my jawline toward my neck, causing shivers to run through me even as he trails tiny kisses across every inch of exposed skin available to him. His hands explore every curve of my body they can reach, tingles exploding through every nerve ending his skin touches.

As I return the favor, he lifts his head, searching for something. “Where’s your room?” he asks, and I realize he’s never been to my house before. I push away the pang of sadness I feel at knowing he shouldn’t need a tour, but quickly drag him through the living room, pointing out the attached kitchen, the bathroom, and the towel closet on the way to my room.

I stop at my doorway, the scent of cinnamon from the candle I was burning earlier filling the air. My bed is made but clothes cover the floor, and I have a few open books lying around. I notice JT glancing at them curiously. “I wasn’t sure how many books it was going to take to convince you to come back to me.” I shrug. “At least Jameson gave me a heads-up that you’re terrible at checking for packages.”

He laughs softly and kisses me again before pulling away. “I read every word you wrote,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with emotion. “You gave me the strength to see myself as someone who could make you happy—as someone who deserved your love. It just took a bit. And I didn’t want to come back to you before I was ready to be the man you need me to be.” His statement sends shivers down my spine, making me feel alive in ways I didn’t know were possible. He trails kisses along my jawline as his hands explore my body once more. I want to talk to him, to hear about how he’s doing, about what happened with his parents, but my body has different ideas. His fingers intertwine with mine as he sits down on the side of the bed, pulling me between his jeans-clad thighs.

As he leans in for another kiss, I feel his stubble scratch against my chin, reminding me of our shared past—of memories that make my heart race and stomach flutter all over again. Our lips meet in a bruising kiss as JT pulls on the back of my legs, encouraging me to sit on him. I straddle his waist, aligning the heat of my core with the hard ridge under his zipper. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the feel of him under me as I rock slowly in time to our kisses.

“Do you want me to show you just how much I love you, Pipsqueak?”

“Yes.” I sure do.

He rolls his hips, and I let out a soft moan. I haven’t felt anything close to lust since Vegas, and now that JT is here, my body is ready to go. I’m soaking wet and desperately seeking the friction I’ve been deprived of in his absence.

JT snags the bottom of my T-shirt, pulling it up and over my head, letting out a breathy “goddamn” when he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. I laugh as his head dips, his tongue finding my right nipple. He traces the puckered tip slowly before pulling the entire thing in his mouth and biting gently.

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