I smile at her. “I’m strictly yours like I hope you’re strictly mine.” My heart thrashes, liking the sound of that.
Her lips stretch into a small smile. “Strictly mine. Strictly yours.”
“We might have traumatized your sister.” Josie pants against my lips as we stumble into the house.
I slam the door shut behind me, she drops her purse on the floor, and the keys follow suit, jangling loud on the hardwood floor.
“How so?” I lift her and she wraps her legs around my waist, causing her skirt to roll up her thighs. I pin her against the wall as she weaves her fingers through my hair at the nape.
I slip my hand down and under her skirt, cupping her ass hard. She moans, angling her head to the side to give me access to her neck.
“She said she saw your tongue shoved down my—” She gasps when I bite hard on the erratic pulse beneath her jaw, then I lick it to soothe the sting. She moans, knocking my hat off as she rakes her fingers up my hair. “Throat.”
“She’ll be all right.” I grunt, gently sucking, careful not to leave a mark even though it’s all I want to do. “I have something for you,” I whisper against her neck.
She shudders and stops pulling my hair, but still keeps her fingers knotted between the locks. “What is it?”
“It’s upstairs.” I peck her lips, feeling a little nervous about giving it to her.
She tries to climb off me, but I don’t let her. I keep a firm grip on her ass as I make my way through the house and up the stairs until we’re in my bedroom.
“You’re surreal.” I kiss her again because I can’t get enough of her and I know I never will. And now, even though there’s no label to what we are, she’s my girl, mine, and I intend to keep it that way forever.
“I hope that’s a good thing,” she says, bemused and a little bashful too.
“I’m sorry.” I sit on the edge of my bed with Josefine straddling me.
“What are you sorry about?” Her brows pinch together and her lips purse like she wants to say more but doesn’t know how.
“About everything. Before you say it’s not my fault, I’m still sorry. I know it changes nothing, but I hate those who made you think…who made you feel…who…I hate them so much.”
“Don’t hate. It’s not worth it.” She cups my cheek, offering me the faintest smile. “Please stay you. I like your soft heart.”
I smile, the anger fading away. “My soft heart?”
Her face flushes and she casts her gaze down. “Yeah, you have this thing where you see the good in things. I don’t want that to change about you.”
I dip my head to meet her stare. “Okay, I promise it won’t.”
We hug. I’m not sure how long we do this for, but I lock up and enjoy every single second of it. It’s not until I open my eyes and spot the bag that I remember why I brought her up here.
“I hope you like what I got you.” I stand and sit her on my bed.
“You really shouldn’t have.” Her tone is aloof, but I note the curiosity burning in her eyes.
“You know me; I love a good holiday.” My cheeks warm as I hand her the bag and the card I made her.
She grins, opening the card first. It’s not as thoughtful as the others. I’ve been busy with baseball and classes, and now that Bryson and I have to share a hotel room at away games, it made it hard to work on it.
But she reads it and stares at it like I’ve gifted her something expensive. “It’s not as great as the others but?—”
She shakes her head, cutting me off. “No, shut up. I love it. I’m so happy you’re here, baby.”
My heart painfully squeezes. It shouldn’t, but hearing her say that makes me feel glad I stuck with my promise.
Shaking off the thought, I lift a brow, smirking. “Did you just call me baby?”
“I was testing it. Not sure how I feel about it though.” It’s cute when she blushes and she’s doing that now. “What do you think?”
