Page 70 of Forbidden Forward

Dazed, I look up into his gorgeous gray eyes. “Hey, yourself.”

He holds me apart at arm’s length, and his gaze sweeps me from head to toe. “Wow! You’re more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

“That was yesterday,” I scoff. Self-consciously, I rake my fingers through my hair and give him an eye-roll. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Never said it before in my life.” He’s serious. I might believe him. I want to believe him.

He wraps a big hand around my nape and pulls me in for a chaste kiss on my forehead. “C’mon. Hope you’re hungry.” Soon he’s uncorking the wine and filling a glass for me.

“Aren’t you having any?” I ask.

“Maybe in a bit with the meal. Gotta clean up the diet now that the final push of the season is coming up.” He bumps my wineglass with his bottle of vitamin water in a toast. “Leaves twice as much for you.” His eyebrows dance up and down his forehead suggestively.

I keep from confessing that I don’t need wine to be ready and willing for him to have his way with me. Right the hell now. “Need a taste tester?” I offer instead.

“Absolutely. Get your cute ass over here.”

I do, standing so close our arms brush together as if we can’t stand to be apart. He holds up a wooden spoon with a dab of marinara sauce and spoon-feeds me. He raises an eyebrow in question.

“A little more salt,” I suggest.

He tastes it himself. “And a little more oregano.”

“Maybe a splash of the red wine?” I hand him the bottle.

He gives me a long look before doctoring the sauce, a corner of his mouth tipping up. I love the closeness, the intimacy of moments like this one. My imagination weaves vignettes where we cook dinner together, curl up on the couch in our pajamas to watch a movie, and sip coffee in the morning after spending the night together. Like we did on the boat, only in a bigger space. A home we share. I can totally see myself living with this man. As long as he’s in Raleigh. If he’s traded, would he want me to move with him?

Way too soon for that, I tell myself.

The thought of him leaving dampens my mood, especially if it’s because of my brother, and I shove it down. Before long, we fall into easy conversation about our day, the team’s chance of making the playoffs, and what movie to watch after dinner. This leads into a comparison of favorite movies, favorite bands, favorite restaurants.

After dinner, he turns on the fireplace and we cuddle together on the couch while he cues up Speed. Turns out we’re both fans of Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. The movie hardly gets going before we find something more interesting than the action on the screen. Kisses start slow but turn heated, like my skin everywhere his touch lands. Soon we shed our clothes, and our mouths and bodies slide together in his bed. I love how I can feel all of him filling me.

I love so many things about Colby. Small things. Big things. The way his eyes shine. The way his mouth quirks. His laugh. His working-man’s hands. His mussy hair.

When we come down from our explosive coupling, I snuggle into his side, my fingers tracing designs on his smooth, warm skin. Melancholy settles inside my chest, and emotion wells up, stinging my eyes. How can I be so happy and yet so sad? I burrow a little closer and squeeze his side.

He strokes my hair. “What are you thinking?”

I rearrange myself so my chin rests on his right pec and I can look him in the eye. “How is this going to work?”

Long moments unfold as his eyes hold mine, and the terrifying thought that he doesn’t intend for this to go any farther crosses my addled brain. “There’s only one way it can work,” he finally says. When I cock an eyebrow in question, he continues. “We need to tell your brother.”

I recoil and raise my torso off him. “Are you nuts?”

He shifts so he faces me, and his eyes narrow. “Okay. Let’s hear your idea for how we can make this work.”

Relief and dread war inside me. I’m relieved because he’s not ready to end it, but I dread the thought of my brother finding out.

“How about I pretend I have a different mysterious man in my life?” Though I say this jokingly, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how not funny they are. For a few reasons. Randy was a mystery man to my brother, and if I say I’ve got another one, he’ll shred my story to uncover the guy’s identity. Second, I don’t like the idea of keeping Colby a secret. It feels tawdry, an affair of the heart to be ashamed of.

Colby’s growl lets me know he doesn’t like that idea either. “No fake boyfriends. And don’t suggest we sneak around because that only works for so long.”

I ask the question that’s been rattling around in my brain. “What about your future with the team? If Donovan finds out about us, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you’re not back next year.”

His gaze bores into mine, and it’s obvious he’s fighting his own internal battle. “We’ll figure out something.” There’s little conviction in his voice. This is a lose-lose proposition, and we both know it. That realization drags my heart into a deep, dark hole.

With a defeated sigh, I recline against him once more. “How did we get here?” It’s a rhetorical question I mutter half to myself.