Page 108 of Their Greatest Strength

“You just did that.”

I push forward and kiss her, letting our tongues play for a few moments before pulling away. “I told you we’d have fun.”

“Is this what it will be from now on?”

There’s a vulnerability in her voice that sets off warning bells in my mind.

“I don’t only want sex from you. What I feel for you goes far beyond the physical.”

“Me too,” she reveals softly.

Cupping her cheek, I bring our foreheads together. “We’ll go with the flow. Listen to what we want and take it. I don’t care if that’s massaging your head while watching a romcom or stroking your pussy on the kitchen counter. Being with you is what I want.”

“At least let me make the tacos next time,” she teases lightly.

“Anything you want, just ask.”

“What about the gift you taunted me with earlier? Can I have that?”

“They’re in the back seat.”

She curves a brow. “They’re? As in multiple?”

“Just look behind me and find them, Bandit,” I push, smiling at her excitement.

Without needing another push, she leans past me to get a look in the back seat. I know the minute she notices the bag because she reaches for my shoulder, needing the stability.

“When did you get these?”

“Yesterday.”

“Jamie, I can’t repay you for these. They must have cost a fortune.”

“They’re a congratulatory gift for getting the job today.”

“But you didn’t know I was going to get it for sure.”

She sits back in my lap empty-handed. Concern spikes before I realize she probably didn’t want to unroll a set of sharp-as-hell chef’s knives in my lap.

Her glistening eyes choke me, and I reach for her, smoothing her hair out of her face.

“I knew, Blakely. And you deserve these. The only thing I want in return is for you to stay in my lap for a minute more, okay?”

My heart throbs so hard it’s almost painful when she nods and folds herself against my chest. Her steady breathing stabilizes me as it becomes even clearer that it won’t be her falling in love with me that’s the problem.

It’ll be me falling in love with her.

32

BLAKELY

On Thursday,Jamie drives us home from work—speeding, might I add—and puts himself to work prepping for Nate’s football practice. He’s like a little mother hen, filling the squirting water bottles he bought in bulk from the closest sports shop and packing Nate’s new gear into the tub alongside them.

“He’s going to lose it when he sees that stuff, you know?”

My socks are scratchy in my sneakers as I slip them on, but I keep my complaints to myself. I’ve already promised myself that when my first paycheque comes in from the Pythons, I’ll spend a few dollars on replacing both my socks and shoes before piling the rest away in my savings.

“You’re sure he’ll like them? If I didn’t want it to be a surprise, I would have brought him with me and had him choose his own. My dad spent three hours in the store with me when I upgraded my gear the first time. Should I have done that instead?” Jamie rambles, pacing in the entryway.

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