Page 236 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I’m laughing now, genuinely laughing. Harder than I have for a long time, and indeed the hardest with him.
“Looks like Godiva claimed you.”
With a resigned sigh and a smile creeping across his face, he shrugs. “I think she has, but I’m not sure I’m ready to commit yet.”
The dog is in full play mode, happily rolling around on the grass nearby, oblivious to the trouble she just caused.
“Maybe next time we can avoid the wet t-shirt contest.” I try to stifle my laugh.
“Or switch roles. I don’t mind sharing the full dog-pee experience.” He rises to his knees and leans toward me with his arms wide open, reaching for a hug.
“Nooo!” I lean back, but my hand lands on Hershey’s tail, and he yelps. “Sorry.” I jerk away and lose balance.
Hart’s arm shoots out, and his hand circles my waist, pulling me close. For a second, our faces are so close I could kiss him. The dog leaps on Hart’s back, and he crashes straight into me, and we both tumble onto the ground.
I hit the ground first, and he lands on top of me, arms sprawled out, and palms catching himself.
“Shit. Sorry.” His voice is soft, concerned, and close—so close.
“Sorry? You saved me. I should thank you.” The words don’t come out as I intend; instead, soaked in a need I didn’t mean to reveal.
His fingers brush my cheek, just a graze, and everything stops—my skin tingles.
I can’t move.
Can’t look away from the hunger in his stormy eyes that speak louder than any words ever could. It’s strange how something so simple—a hand against my face—can mean so much.
His eyes drop to my lips for a split second, and I feel the air between us tighten. But then he shifts, just enough that I can feel his breath on my skin, so close, so intimate.
“You okay?” His thumb brushes my cheekbone, lighter this time, and I wonder if he even knows he’s doing it.
Or maybe he does.
Maybe it’s deliberate.
It doesn’t matter either way; the softness of his touch burns into me, like it’s carving its way under my skin.
The dogs happily wag their tail nearby, jumping on us, oblivious to the sudden shift in the air.
“I’m okay,” I say quietly, a little breathless from the fall and the way his hands are still resting so carefully on me.
He doesn’t move.
I don’t move.
His eyes soften, his thumb brushing lightly across my skin as if to make sure I’m really okay.
“I didn’t mean to knock you down like that.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but it’s engulfed by desire.
It’s like a thread has snapped between us, one that was holding the lightness, and now we’re both treading in deeper waters.
It sends a quiet rush through me, everything else disappearing. The dog, the shelter, the world—it all fades into the background, leaving just the two of us, lying on the grass with him holding me close. And all I hear is my own breath, feel the soft rustle of his movements, and his weight pressing gently into me.
He lets out a soft exhale. “Are you sure?”
His chest rises and falls steadily, inches from mine.
I nod, trying to keep my composure, but I can’t help the way my pulse quickens.
