Page 108 of Hometown Touchdown
She fits against me like she always has.
“I liked your little speech back there,” I murmur near her ear. “Very romantic. Very…territorial.”
She groans softly. “I blacked out. I swear. I didn’t evenseered. It was just leopard print and boobs and then rage.”
I bark out a laugh, spinning us in a slow turn. “You could’ve just said, ‘Back off, he’s taken.’ Instead, you went full Old Testament wrath.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Are you mad about it?”
“Mad?” I grin, brushing a kiss over her temple. “I’ve never been more turned on in my life.”
Her laugh bubbles up, breathing warm against my collarbone. She tucks her face into my neck for a second, like she can’t quiteget close enough. Like she needs a second to absorb what just happened.
Same, sweetheart.
I pull her even closer, the world shrinking down to the sound of her breath and the soft strum of the guitar.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch it.
Debbie.
Leaning against the jukebox with a margarita in hand and the kind of death glare that could make crops fail. She’s staring straight at me like she’s plotting how to boil a frog. If looks could kill, I’d be halfway to being cremated.
I bite back a laugh and lean down to whisper in Brynn’s ear. “So…you might want to keep holding onto me.”
“Why?” she asks, lifting her head.
“Because Debbie is giving me the absolute murder eyes from across the room.”
Brynn doesn’t even turn to look. She just smiles sweetly, presses up onto her toes, and kisses me again—slow, and just indulgent enough to really drive the point home.
When she pulls away, she says, “Let her look. I hope she takes a picture.”
I shake my head, my heart stupidly full. “You’re terrifying.”
She grins. “You’re mine.”
“You gonna start bar fights over me now?”
“I’ll fight every woman in Roanoke County if I have to.”
I laugh, the sound catching low in my throat. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”
We keep swaying. People around us laugh, clink glasses. The guy with the guitar strums into another verse, voice scratchy and warm. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m holding onto something fragile. I feel like I’m standing in something solid.
This woman, this life, this night—it’s all mine.
By the time we make it through her door, we’re already halfway undressed.
Brynn kicks it shut behind us, her back hitting the wood, her mouth catching mine like she’s been holding her breath since Gordy’s. I drop my keys somewhere—I think they hit a plant—but I don’t care. I’ve got her pressed against the doorframe, her hands under my shirt, mine already tugging at the button on her jeans like they’re an obstacle I’m personally offended by.
This isn’t new.
We’ve been here before.
But tonight feels different. Charged. Like something final and beginning all at once. Her kiss is frantic, all teeth and breath and low sounds in her throat that I swear I’ll replay in my head for the rest of my life.
“You gonna take me to bed, Coach?” she pants against my mouth, that wicked grin tugging at her lips.
