Page 46 of Bound and Blitzed

Is she ashamed of me?

Once she explained why, I understood her reason for withholding the information. But that doesn’t mean I like it. Knowing that we’re coming clean to her family fills me with relief.

It’s strange because six months ago, the thought of calling a woman’s father to ask for her hand in marriage—or at least have the common courtesy to tell said father that I’ve married his daughter—would have filled me with fear. Panic. Anxiety.

Instead, it bothers me that Valentina’s familydoesn’tknow. I want them to know and like me, to feel invested in our marriage, to care about it. I want from them the same things I desire from my own family—respect and appreciation. Understanding and faith. I want them to know that I have every intention of doing right by their daughter.

And while I know that’s a long shot, the first step is confiding in them.

Should I call her father first and give him a heads-up? What’s the best way to play this?

Valentina chuckles and I grin in response. I love the sound of her laugh. I love the weight of her body pressed against mine, snuggled up next to me.

I haven’t kissed Valentina since that day in my parents’ kitchen and while I’ve thrown myself into football and the season, I haven’t forgotten how her lips feel against mine.

The longer the movie plays, the more aware I become of Valentina’s presence. The rise and fall of her chest captures my gaze. The squeeze of her fingers around my bicep causes me to flex like a college frat boy. The pretty parting of her lips, the focus of her gaze, the rosiness of her cheeks calls to me, begging to be studied, to be desired.

And fuck do I want her. Even though I promised anything physical that happens between us will be because she wants it—asks for it—the longer the film plays, the harder it becomes to not make a move.

What am I waiting for? On some level, isn’t Valentina waiting for me to initiate more? It’s not fair that I expect her to do so when she was clearly relieved that I broke the ice on clearing the air this evening.

As if she senses the thoughts whirling in my mind, as if she can feel my gaze on her profile, Valentina turns. Her neck swivels, her eyes find mine, and her mouth puckers.

I work a swallow, captured by the heat and understanding in her pretty eyes.

“Avery?” she murmurs, uncertainty threading through her tone.

I shift toward her, one hand reaching up to cup her neck. My thumb drags along her jaw and pushes to lift her chin. “I want to kiss you, Valentina.” My voice is husky and honest.

Valentina knows it because she lifts her chin higher, just a smidge. Just enough to let me know that she’s considering it.

Her lips part. “Then do it,” she replies, her voice breathy.

It’s all the invitation, the challenge, I need. Dragging my palm higher until it cups her cheek, I angle her head and sweep my lips over hers.

Her mouth is soft, hot, delicious. Valentina tastes like hot chocolate and the first snowfall of winter. Sweet and pure. But with a ribbon of desire that draws me to her like a magnet. I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to.

Her hands clutch at my shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. Her eyelids flutter closed, and a throaty sound escapes her lips, a moan from deep within her.

Fuck, the sounds she makes turn me on. I drag my mouth from hers and kiss along her jawline, swirl my tongue along the lobe of her ear, and pull it between my teeth for a gentle tug.

She gasps and shivers in my arms.

“Oh, oh,” she murmurs, her hands traveling up to cup my cheeks, to tug on the ends of my hair.

I move lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the delicate spot behind her ear, and down the column of her neck. “You’re so damn delicious, Lena. God, I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”

“You have?” she whimpers.

“Why the hell do you think I had to stay away?” I ask.

She pulls away slightly to look at me. Her eyes are clouded with heat. “Work. You were busy.”

God, she’s too fucking good for me. I chuckle, dropping my head. “That was one of the reasons. The other was I swore I wouldn’t do this unless you want it.” I raise my head and meet her eyes again. “Do you want this?”

She stares at me for a long beat. So long, I start to worry that I somehow pushed her into this moment. “Yes,” she says finally, breathily. “Yes, Avery.”

“Thank fuck,” I mutter, laying her down on the couch.

---