Page 12 of My Grumpy Valentine

She’s the one who has to pull away. Even when she releases her hold, I can sense the reluctance. Staring up at me in a daze, her smile is slanted, and she even giggles to double the blow. One lick to her lips is a tease I’m not ready for.

When she digs out her keys, I watch her struggle to shove it into the knob. Drunk on happiness, it’s a sight I haven’t seen her experience in what has felt like ages.

“Would you like to come inside?”

We both know what will happen if I say yes. Hell, I’m surprised I have the strength to stop myself from lifting her up and carrying her past the entrance. I’m in a state where I’m ready to dry hump her against the fucking door, just to get a little relief.

We’d ignore the importance of sleep.

Instead of caving, I put my desires on the side.

I won’t have her think that I just want her for her body. I’m in this to see it through to the end. Should give her the night to make sure she won’t regret making my year with a single kiss.

“Not tonight.” Reaching forward, I brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Now that we’ve crossed a line, I want to keep touching her however I can. She’ll let me, won’t she?

Giving her a small smile to reassure the doubt clouding behind her eyes, I lean down and test my strength by stealing one more kiss from her plump lips. This one is chaste and hardly fulfilling. Especially with the open door silently inviting me inside.

“You should get your rest.” One more kiss to the top of her head is enough to give me the strength to pull away. “Goodnight, Pen. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Clutching the knob, she nods slowly. Her cheeks are so pink, and it remains a blow to my chest.

“Goodnight, Asher.”

With that, I barely feel each step toward my truck. I don’t leave the complex until I see her slip inside her home.

Cursing softly under my breath, I groan at the realization that I still taste her on my tongue.

My poor cock needs attention. Throbbing, this is nothing but revenge for ending tonight together.

I want Penelope to know I love her before she invites me inside.

With that, I force myself to turn my truck back on and head back home to my empty bed, where I plan on recalling every second of our kiss. I swear to myself that tonight will be the last time I’m left to rely on my hand and the fantasies to get me through this rough state.

Tomorrow, I’m going to lay out my feelings. If she’s willing to return them, I’m going to buy a ring. Fuck waiting.

I waited seven years too long to get a chance like this. It’s not one I am willing to let slip between my fingers.

* * *

My lips press together in a firm line as I stare at the rows of colorful blossoming flowers, vibrant hues of red, yellow, and violet merging into a stunning palette. Each flower, from delicate daisies to radiant roses, has its own unique fragrance, blending to create an intoxicating aroma that fills the air of the charming little flower shop.

Never in my life have I thought I’d be stressing about how to win a woman over. Let alone the woman I’ve loved for as long as I have Penelope.

Despite having kissed her, something I’m still struggling to believe truly happened or not, I’m fretting over what dozen flowers I should get for her.

It’s Valentine’s Day, the best day to confess. The timing couldn’t have been possibly better. What better excuse do I have to get her a gift and let everything I’ve been holding onto out?

If she thinks I’m the man I used to be when we were younger, then I’ll prove her otherwise.

While I know Where Hope Blossoms deserves to be busy because of the holiday, I don’t enjoy the constant brush of bodies moving about as everyone else has an easier time picking their selection.

Scratching my bearded cheek, I consider asking for help. Maybe a push in the right direction. Instead, I continue staring until I notice some mixed assortments. Can’t go wrong with this selection.

Unless Penelope actually hates flowers, or she has allergies, or something else to imply how terrible my luck is.

No. Danny used to surprise her with them every few months, always with a dozen roses wrapped in loud plastic.

I look at my arrangement, and my nose scrunches.

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