Page 46 of Resisting the Running Back

“The wedding.”

Light seems to dawn in her eyes. “Oh! Right. Do it. The wedding.” She giggles, and she seems a little…off. Nervous, maybe. It’s probably just the wine—or maybe the fact that we’re hanging out with good-looking, single guys like Clayton Mack, Sam Collins, and DJ Evans, three of the wide receivers on the San Diego Storm. “We should just keep it simple. Maybe we should just go to Vegas and do it there.”

“Is that how you dreamed of your wedding?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “No,” she admits. “But there’s a lot about this I didn’t dream of.”

I raise a brow. “Oh? Like what?”

It’s dark in here, but not so dark I don’t catch the fact that her cheeks seem to flush. Must be those other football players getting to her again.

She draws in a deep breath and seems like she’s about to say something when our waitress interrupts by handing us our drinks.

Sophie immediately downs about half her wine while I slowly sip my whiskey.

“Is everything okay?” I ask her as I watch her nervously play with the stem of her glass.

She presses her lips together and lets out a little giggle, and then she draws in another deep breath. She snags her bottom lip between her teeth, and I tilt my head as I study her.

I lean in a little closer, and I ask her, “Is it the wedding? Are you having second thoughts?”

Her eyes flick up to mine. Her lip is still caught between her teeth, and she shakes her head as she slowly frees it. Her eyes hold mine captive as she rests one of her hands on my bicep.

My brows pinch together. “You’re not having second thoughts? Then…what is it?” I press, and instead of answering, she sets her glass on the table beside us and turns back toward me.

When her eyes meet mine again, a strange sensation darts through me.

Her eyes flick to my lips, and she tilts her chin up as she rises onto her toes.

Her lips catch mine, and I lean down into her so she can settle back down onto her feet. I slide one palm along her neck as my other hand moves to her hip, where I haul her closer to me.

My mouth opens naturally as I deepen the kiss, and she’s kissing me back with this newfound urgency that I wasn’t expecting.

This isn’t for show.

Strange sensations whip through me at the feeling of kissing this woman, sensations I never want to stop—and I won’t be the one to stop it. Ican’tstop it.

I want to live in this moment with these feelings forever. It’s warmth and history and friendship, sure, but it’s also more. It’s lust and need and want and heat, things I’ve always feltforher but never feltfromher.

Until now. Until this very moment.

Our tongues tangle together, and she’s grasping my bicep now where she had simply set her hand just a few seconds ago, grasping it as if she’ll fall if she lets go.

I memorize every single thing about this moment—the summer garden breeze of her hair, the feel of her tongue as it brushes against mine, and the deafening sound of my heart beating in my ears as I can almost hear the blood rushing straight down to my cock.

The feel of her in my arms, the sharp angle of her hip under the itchy ruffles of her dress, the way she’s leaning into me, her tits pressed against my chest as I rock my hips toward hers.

The sweet little moan that somehow makes its way through that deafening rush in my head.

Holy shit. Sophie June Summers is kissing me.

And I never want it to end.

It has to end, of course. All good things must come to an end.

But tonight, as this kissdoescome to an end, it’s only to briefly pause as she pulls back to ask me a question.

Her eyes are heavy with need. Her lips are swollen from our kiss.

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