Page 96 of Playing for Keeps
I expected to feel nervous, being in his bed like this, but I don’t. It feels right, like we’ve finally stepped into something we’d both been circling around for far too long.
I press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Go to sleep, Wyatt. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
His breath evens out against my neck, and I lie there, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, my fingers lightly tracing his arm. It’s been a long time since I dared to believe in something like this, but now it feels like Wyatt could be everything I’ve been waiting so long for.
That he’s not just someone I wanted. He’s someone I have.
Even though I promised Wyatt I’d be there when he woke up, he ends up sleeping for a solid sixteen hours. I’m curled up on the sofa with the TV playing in the background when I hear footsteps coming from the hallway.
He wanders into the kitchen, still looking a little dazed, hair messy and eyes heavy with sleep.
“Hey,” I say, rising from the sofa and walking toward him. I want to throw my arms around him, but part of me hesitates. What if he doesn’t remember what he said last night? He was feverish and half out of it when he fell asleep. “How are you feeling?”
He smiles and reaches for me, his arms wrapping around my waist like he’s checking I’m real. “So, it wasn’t a dream?” he says, his voice gravelly and low. “You’re actually here… with me?”
Relief spills through me, and I smile, lifting my arms to loop around his neck, my fingers pushing into the hair at his nape. “I’m really here,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. I press in closer, relieved to feel his skin is cooler now, the heat from the fever mostly gone.
“I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, his voice husky.
I lean back to meet his eyes. “Still not feeling well?”
“I am,” he says quickly. “But I don’t want to risk getting you sick.”
“I don’t care, Wyatt. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to kiss me.” I tilt my head, my heart pounding. “Actually, I’ve been waiting years.”
His smile is warm and all-consuming. He lifts a hand to cup my cheek, and I lean into his palm, my breath catching.
“Years, huh?” I nod. “Then I shouldn’t make you wait another second.”
He lowers his head, brushing his lips against mine. My heart pounds. When he starts to pull away, I close the gap and kiss him again. My fingers curl into his hair as the kiss deepens, and when his tongue grazes my bottom lip, I open up to him with a moan. He holds me like he can’t bear to let go, and I feel exactly the same. No one’s ever kissed me like this, like I’m something special, something worthy, and it feels incredible.
“Jesus, Ivy,” he breathes against my lips, his voice uneven. “Why the hell haven’t we done that before?”
I don’t respond right away. I can’t. My head’s still spinning, my lips still burning from the kiss. It felt like everything had been building up to that moment, every look, every brush of skin, every word left unsaid, finally exploded into something real. Something electric.
“We’re both idiots,” I tell him with a smile. “Now kiss me again.”
He grins. “So bossy.”
He leans in and kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s savoring it. Like he wants to memorize every second. His hands move from my waist to my ass, and he squeezes, eliciting a low moan.
When he pulls out of the kiss, he steps back, taking my hands in his.
“Why aren’t you wearing the jersey I gave you?” he asks, taking in my shorts and tank.
I lower my gaze. “I didn’t bring it,” I say. “Last time I wore it… you seemed a little off. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to wear it again.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry if I made you feel unsure.” He reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “That wasn’t what I meant to do at all. I was barely holding it together.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He exhales, his eyes fixed on mine. “I’d just spent the whole night with you, touching you, holding you, letting myself pretend just for a little while that you were mine. Then we got back here, and suddenly, I wasn’t allowed to touch you at all. And seeing you in my number… all I could think about was pulling you into me and kissing you like I meant it. But I couldn’t.”
My cheeks warm, and he notices, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“I wanted you to be mine so badly,” he says, his voice low. “That jersey... it’s what girlfriends and wives wear. And seeing you in it, it got in my head. Made me want that with you. More than I already did.”
