Page 254 of Across His Line

There’s a version of Tessa I knew for years who would’ve looked away by now. The girl who watched my eyes halfway over the fence. The girl who knew exactly when to disappear.

She doesn’t look away anymore.

“Nash is with Kylie,” I say.

She gives me a look. “Can we lock the door?”

I’m off the bed before she finishes asking.

The lock clicks.

When I turn around, she’s pulled her shirt over her head.

And I stop.

She catches me staring.

I walk back toward her.

Her chin tips up as I get close, but she doesn’t move backward. Doesn’t make herself smaller. If anything, she moves closer. I put my hand against her waist, and it shakes a little.

Her eyes drop to it. Then back to me.

That pisses me off, somehow. That she can still do that to me. One look and suddenly I have no idea what to do with my own hands. I can’t even keep them steady.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I ask.

Her mouth curves. “Maybe.”

“Bullshit.”

She looks back and forth between my eyes. “Then show me.”

I go still.

She knows what she said. I can see it in her face. She’s not embarrassed or taking it back.

“For somebody who used to avoid looking at me,” I say, “you’ve gotten fucking brave.”

Her smile gets softer. “For somebody who used to be awful to me, you’ve gotten pretty easy.”

I laugh once under my breath. Then I put my hand around the back of her neck and kiss her. Not hard, even though I could. I really want to. Instead, I take my time. Her mouth first. I trail my lips to her ear, and I nibble on her lobe. She squirms, so I move lower. Her throat. Her chest. Her fingers tighten, and I keep going lower.

Every time she reacts, every tiny movement, every breath she loses, it feels like somebody handing me something precious and trusting me not to fucking drop it.

I drop down to my knees in front of her.

She looks down at me.

And I swear there isn’t another thing in the world I want right now. Not the draft. Not the teams. Not an answer about June.

Just her standing in front of me with her hands in my hair and that look on her face.

“Rafe,” she says again, quieter.

I press a kiss to her stomach.

Then another.