Page 126 of Playing for the Hat Trick
“You sure about that?” I tease, stretching my legs until they brush against his, my skin sparking at the contact.
Jason sets the carton down on the nightstand, wipes his hands on a napkin, and leans toward me—slow and sure, his gaze dark and real in a way that punches straight through my chest. This guy is going to steal all my air again and . . . what is he doing to me? The question is, what can I do to him? He’s naked, after all.
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” he says, interrupting my very, very dirty thoughts. “The question is . . .how are we going to handle it? I’d ask you to move in right now, but you might think it’s too fast, too crazy, too much. The last thing I want is to chase you away.”
I set my carton aside, my appetite forgotten. The air shifts, thick and charged—not from lust, but from everything we haven’t said. I crawl into his lap without thinking, straddling his hips without hesitation, my hands framing his jaw. Jason freezes, like he’s afraid to breathe, afraid he’ll scare me off if he moves too fast.
“You’re not too much,” I whisper, smoothing my thumbs over his stubble. “Not even close. You’re plenty enough for me.”
His hands find my thighs, squeezing like he needs the reminder that I’m here, that I’m real. His eyes search mine, wide open and raw, no walls left between us.
“I’m falling for you,” I say, my voice shaking with its force. “I’m falling so damn hard, Jason Tate, and it scares the shit out of me because . . . because you deserve someone who doesn’t run scared. Someone who chooses you every single day. And I want to be that person. I’ve been working to become that person.”
He just stares up at me for a beat, jaw tight, breathing rough. Then he exhales a laugh that sounds half-wrecked, half-relieved, and pulls me down into him, arms banding tight around my back.
“Baby, you already are,” he murmurs against my temple. “You already are.”
Jason shifts, turning to face me fully, one knee bent against the sheets, his hand finding my ankle and curling there like he needs the contact as much as I do. His fingers stroke slow, distracted circles over my skin, grounding me in a way that makes my chest squeeze tight.
“I just want to make sure . . .” he says, his voice dipping low, rougher. “I don’t want to do the half-in, half-out thing anymore.I don’t want to wonder if you’re coming back . . . or if you’re about to run again.”
I swallow hard, my throat scraping raw around the words I can’t seem to find.
“I’m not running,” I say quietly, the words trembling even as I mean them.
“You’re scared,” he says, not unkindly. Just . . . real. “You’ve been scared since the day I kissed you.”
I open my mouth to argue, to throw up the usual defenses—but the look in his eyes steals the fight clean out of me. He sees me. Jason Tate sees all of me. The messy, terrified corners I keep boarded up. The places I don’t let anyone touch.
And he’s still here. Still reaching for me like I’m something he’s choosing with his whole damn heart.
“You know I’m scared too,” Jason admits, softer now, thumb still tracing the inside of my ankle. “Not just of you because you’re this supernova, a queen, someone untouchable. But also . . . I’m scared of fucking this up. Scared of losing you before I even get to have you.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I blink hard, but it’s useless. The emotion is already too big, too much to shove down.
“You already have me,” I whisper.
Jason exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months, his whole body sagging with it. His hand slides up my calf, slow and reverent, his thumb brushing the inside of my knee. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked open around the edges, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes my heart splinter wide.
“Say it,” he murmurs like he’s asking for something sacred. Something he’s afraid to hope for.
I tighten my grip around him, pressing closer. My forehead brushing his just as my hands framing his jaw. His breath stutters against my mouth as his hands come up, instinctively gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I’m yours,” I whisper, resting my forehead against his. “You’re mine. No more maybes. No more later.”
But it’s not enough.
Not for him.
Probably, it’s not enough for me either.
Bravery tastes like fear and hope tangled together, like everything good worth fighting for. I close my eyes, sucking in a breath that shakes at the edges, and say the words I’ve been too scared to say even when they lived in every beat of my heart.
“I love you,” I breathe. “I’m stupidly, desperately in love with you.”
Jason freezes.
For half a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even breathe.
