Page 87 of Hometown Touchdown
When she sets her glass down, I lean in, brushing my fingers along her jaw. She meets me halfway, and the moment our lips touch, it’s different than earlier. It’s no longer soft. It’s hungry.
She kisses me like she’s been waiting for this all night and I meet her right there, pull her into my arms, our bodies lining up like muscle memory. My hands find her waist, then slide lower, gripping her ass as her fingers tangle in the lapels of my jacket.
Her mouth opens under mine, and I deepen the kiss instantly, not bothering to hold back. Her nails scrape lightly against the back of my neck, and I whimper, no shame.
This has been building for weeks. The tension. The teasing. Sleeping beside her and not slipping inside her in the light ofmorning. The whispered confessions. The heat in her eyes every time she caught me watching her mouth.
I trail kisses down her neck, feel her body arch into mine, and suddenly nothing about this moment feels casual. It feels electric. I could keep her against this counter all night, but we both know what we want. Where this is going. I pull back slightly, our breaths ragged between us.
“You still sure?” I ask, giving her the chance, the out.
She nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Take me upstairs.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I take her hand, lace our fingers together, and lead her toward the stairs. Picking up her bag, knowing damn well this isn’t just about sex.
By the time we reach the bedroom, I’m not sure how I’m still standing.
She’s gripping my hand like a lifeline, her heels clicking softly across the hardwood as I pull her in behind me. I don't even bother turning on the main light. I’m happy with just the warm glow from the lamp on the dresser, soft enough to feel intimate but bright enough that I’ll see every inch of her when I finally get her out of that dress.
I turn, my hand slipping behind her neck as I bring our mouths back together. The kiss is heady and hot, nothing careful or slow about it. Her hands are already on my chest, fingers dragging down the line of my jacket until it’s half-off my shoulders.
I catch the thin strap of her dress between my fingers, and as I start to ease it down her shoulder, she gasps slightly and pulls back.
“Hold on,” she says, breathless, cheeks flushed.
“Hold on?” I echo, already several degrees past rational. “Baby, I’ve been holding on forweeks.”
“I know,” she says, and she’s smiling—wicked and sweet at the same time. “Just give me two minutes.”
She grabs her overnight bag and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.
I let out a frustrated sigh and drag a hand through my hair, pacing a short line near the bed. My body’s practically vibrating with tension. I yank my tie loose, letting it hang undone around my neck as I sit on the edge of the bed. My pulse is hammering in my ears.
She’s killing me.
I’m still mentally coaching myself not to bust through the door like a man possessed when the handle turns and the door cracks open.
And then—then she steps into the room and my brain goes silent.
She's wearing nothing but my old varsity jacket. The one from senior year.
She’s standing in the doorway, bare legs exposed, the hem just skimming the tops of her thighs, her collarbone glowing beneath the open neckline. Knowing that K-DALTON stitched across her back like a brand makes my cock jump.
And underneath it?
Nothing.
Not the dress. Not the lingerie. Just her. I can’t breathe. Can’t move.
She walks toward me with that quiet, confident sway that makes it feel like the air itself parts for her. And I am gone. Absolutely gone.
“Fuck.”
It’s the only word I can form. She looks like every hormone-fueled dream I had at seventeen, only better—real, grown,here. Her skin glows under the soft light, legs bare, lips parted in a smile that says she knows exactly the power she holds right now.
She stops in front of me, and I can’t help myself. I reach out, dragging my finger down the open space of the jacket, sliding between her perfect breasts, down her stomach, stopping just at the line where the jacket parts over her thighs.
