Page 283 of Coach
And it was far too soon to want that much. Jesus, we’d only known each other for a few weeks, and the guy wasn’t exactly an open book. I had to pry even the most basic information out of him, like what he might want on his pizza. Getting to know the real man buried deep beneath his layers of something I still didn’t know would take forever. It might not even be possible.
What would I do if he never let me in?
How could I fall for a man who held me at arm’s distance?
There were so many questions, so many doubts. This was insane. I was insane.
But as I watched him, his lashes fluttering, mouth parted in that ridiculous not-so-tough way, I knew one thing for sure:
I was already falling.
And I wasn’t about to stop.
I didn’t want to stop.
Icouldn’tstop.
I wanted to fall with all the weight of the world and never get back up again.
Because he would catch me.
I knew he would.
Deep down, I just knew it.
I reached down and tried to smooth some of his ruffled hair. It plopped back into its misshapen place once my fingers lifted.
I smiled at his mess, at his perfectly imperfect mess.
He grumbled—a low, gravelly sound halfway between a groan and a mumble.
Then, slowly, those beautiful storm-gray eyes fluttered open, blinking blearily at me.
“Hey you.”
And just like that, my heart did another dangerous flip.
“Hey,” I whispered back.
He winced. “Why are you yelling?”
I grinned. “That was a whisper.”
“God, you yelled again.”
I leaned down and kissed his nose.
His eyes crossed trying to follow my motion, only making my grin widen.
“Hungry?” I asked.
He nodded. “And I need Advil, stat.”
“No cookies?”
His brow furrowed. “Cookies?”
“Never mind. I’ll get you some painkillers and get started on breakfast. If you want to shower, knock yourself out. I’m slow in the kitchen.” I pushed to get up, then paused. “I would offer you a shirt, but I don’t think anything I own was made in pup-tent size.”
