Page 31 of Fumbled Beginning

“Sorry, I like my s’mores enjoyable, I’m not a fan of the burnt charcoal taste.”

“It’s the best,” I said, handing him a piece of chocolate and a graham cracker so he could make his sandwich. “I can see why this is your happy place.”

“It’s my sanctuary.” He stretched out a bit.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I told you before you can ask me anything,” he said, pressing the chocolate and marshmallow together before bringing it to his mouth.

I tilted my head and waved my hand around. “If you feel that way, why do you allow all those random people to invade your personal space? Why all the parties with random groupies?”

He looked up at the night sky. “There aren’t as many parties as you think, but sometimes it’s easier to host here where I can control the crowd, especially with the younger players. They tend to find trouble pretty easily. It’s my subtle way of keeping them from doing something stupid. Although between you and me, I’m getting sick of that scene and always having to be their gatekeeper.”

I was not expecting that. “Are you really saying that you’re sick of the cleat chasers and the endless parties?”

Could we possibly be on the same page after all? I held my breath, waiting for his answer, and tried not to get my hopes up.

He set his stick aside and scratched the back of his neck. “I have been for a while. Maybe it’s my age and because I’m starting to take life more seriously. I’m not getting any younger, and I know I need to make some changes in my life.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Good ones, I hope.” He winked, and my gaze went back to the fire. All the reasons I conjured up about why things would never work were slowly fading from my mind. There was no humor in his voice, no laughter in his tone, just complete sincerity. This may not be a dead-end road after all.

* * *

“What do you think?” he asked as the credits rolled across the screen.

I rolled my lips together like I was giving it some deep thought. “I think you need to stop feeding me donuts and s’mores if I want to look as good as Jennifer Lopez does when I’m her age.”

We just finished watchingShotgun Wedding. I assumed it was a typical romantic comedy. I wasn’t expecting all the grenades, explosions, or the pirate-kidnapping-terrorist, but it was pretty funny.

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

We were lying side by side on his oversized sectional. JP had been the perfect gentleman all night. I kept expecting him to cop a feel or, at the very least, let his hands roam a little, but the only movement he would make was to tug me closer against his chest when I would shift in position.

“I think you need to get your eyes checked.” I laughed and stood up to bring my empty wineglass into the kitchen. “You obviously haven’t noticed the little scar right here on my jaw.” I pointed to the little white line that most people barely noticed, but I always knew it was there.

“What happened?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

I set the glass in the sink and turned in his arms. My fingers shamelessly crawled up onto his strong shoulders. We were so close I could feel his heart beating in his chest. “Maverick was six and I was three. He was pulling me down the driveway in a little red wagon, and we went over a bump and out I went.”

He flinched. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, thankfully, I don’t remember, but from what I’ve been told, it required four stitches.”

He dragged his soft lips along the faded white line. My eyes slid shut when he moved to the corner of my mouth. He was treating me like glass, but I wanted to crawl into him and beg him to ruin me.

I pushed up on my toes and tightened my arms around his neck. His eyes held mine, searching for permission or reassurance. I couldn’t tell.

His hands slid up my back. “What do you want, beautiful?”

I arched my body into his. “I want your mouth on mine.”

He tilted my face, positioning me where he wanted me. “I will never deny you of anything.” His tongue dipped inside, and his hand splayed along the curve of my ass. The kiss was slow, and it was going to be my undoing.

It was tender, soft, sweet, and not what I expected. I expected him to tear my clothes off, push his arousal inside me and take what he wanted.

Everything ached. My body was on fire, and with every lick of his tongue, a hot, searing intensity burned through my veins.

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