Page 44 of Love Deep
I laugh and stand to get glasses. But I don’t get a chance. Fisher puts the bottle on the table and wraps his hands around my waist.
He sweeps his lips against mine and lets out a groan. “God, you smell good.”
He kisses my smile, and I sink into him, relaxing my body against his, threading my hands into his hair.
It shouldn’t be this easy with him. But it is. It’s like we’ve skipped three months of dating, and he knows exactly what I want from him. A long, slow kiss.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he says. “In fact, all week, since the last time I saw you.”
I wince. “Sorry. My schedule is?—”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know you have a lot going on. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss kissing you.”
I tilt my head and push his hair from his face. “Well, I’mavailable for kisses on my porch every evening from eight thirty till midnight.”
I grin, but he doesn’t laugh like I expected him to do.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Fisher, if you wanna drive down here every night, then I’m more than happy to kiss you.”
This time, he smiles and presses his lips against mine, pulling my body against his, sliding his tongue between my lips, finding mine eager and willing.
I feel him harden between us, and eventually, he pulls away.
“Tell me your mom isn’t inside.”
I laugh. “No. And Riley’s in bed. But let me get some glasses, and we can… take a break.”
I head into the house. Quickly, I check on Riley, but she’s fast asleep. I grab two of my three wineglasses and a corkscrew and head out.
“How was your day?” Fisher asks from where he’s sitting on the bench, his arm stretched out on the back. He takes the wine and expertly opens the bottle and pours out two glasses.
“Oh, you know, a lot like yesterday.” I take a seat beside him, and he scoots me closer and puts his arm around me. I lean my head against him. “Except today, Riley and I had a difficult conversation about her trying out for cheer squad.”
“You’re worried she won’t get in?” he asks, like he’s genuinely interested. He’s so sweet. He hands me a glass of the wine he poured.
“No, I’m worried shewillget in. I hate the whole idea of cheer. I used to do it at school, and I know there are plenty of positives, but I don’t like my daughter participating in something that’s basically cheering on the boys doing a sport. It’s gross.”
“But it’s a sport in its own right, right? I mean, they do gymnastics and stuff, don’t they?”
I straighten my head and shrug. “Yeah, but ultimately, the idea of cheer is to hype up the crowd so they go wild for the boys. I don’t like the message it sends. I want her to do gymnastics. To swim. Do any sport. But cheer?” I groan.
If Riley really wants to do it, I’ll support her, but I don’t like the message it sends to impressionable young brains.
“I imagine most parents are thrilled if their kid gets on the cheer squad.”
“True,” I say. “But I’m not most parents. I want more for Riley than cheering on the boys. I want people cheeringheron.”
He smiles at me like he’s mesmerized.
“Sorry. I’ll get down off my high horse now.”
“Don’t. You look hot up there, standing up for what you want. Cheers to that.” He raises his glass, takes a sip, and sets it back down.
I shake my head, grinning at his cheesy joke. “Tell me about your day.”
He pulls in a breath. “Well, I spent this morning in the studio. My artist wants my input on a couple of tracks, so I’ve been helping a little.”
