And…
And what?
I can’t deny I’m having more fun, feeling more relaxed, enjoying the present moment more than I have in years.
Gage spins me out before catching me in his arms. The sudden movement shakes me from my thoughts, and I land against his chest with a thud. He places one hand on my waist to steady me but then clutches my other hand in his, holding our clasped hands in between our chests as he begins to sway.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
“Dancing with you.” His voice is serious.
My eyebrows lift. “Here?”
“Why not?” One side of his mouth lifts but his gaze is sincere.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, moving my body in sync with his. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Then all those men were doing it wrong. You should always dance when you feel like it.”
“That’s a Spanish thing.”
“That’s a Gutierrez thing,” he clarifies. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, inching closer into him. His bare chest presses against mine and I nearly shiver from the contact. It’s ridiculous. It’s broad daylight and we’re on a beach, surrounded with families. Yet, it all melts away when I look into Gage’s eyes.
Right now, it’s just us, tucked into a silent cave in a seawall, dancing to the music of the sea. Sunlight filters in, casting his face in shadows as he tips his chin down.
“I’m glad.”
“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Being with your family, being with you, it’s…easy.”
His eyes flash, a grin cutting across his face. “I’m not that easy, Cal.”
I snort, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I know,” he teases, flattening his hand in the center of my back. God, it feels good, his hands on my skin. His eyes staring at me with intention and purpose. “Cal,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said last night. It wasn’t the wine talking or being caught up in the moment. I want what my parents have,” he admits, his voice low. “I want fifty years and a family on a beach and laughing until I can’t breathe. And, fuck, I’m not trying to overwhelm you, but I also want you to really understand that I want that with you.”
“Gage.” I pull back. How did he know I’d need the reassurance? How does he understand how much I need the words with the actions. I’m so scared of reading things wrong, of ruining my career. But Gage always knows what to say. “You’re really serious?” I press.
“One hundred percent,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine. His grip on my fingers tightens. “It’s always been you.”
“Even though my life is a mess right now? I’m a mess,” I tack on, needing him to understand just how desperate I’ve felt lately. Unattractive and unworthy and…completely alone.
“You’re not a mess. You’re strong and resilient and brave. You’re it for me,” he says it simply. As if it’s an obvious truth and he has no problem admitting it, laying it all out.
It’s me who has a hard time accepting it. Because…this is Gage Gutierrez. Football star and Super Bowl winner. He can have any woman he wants and yet…
“I want you,” he whispers.
I lift my eyes to his and read the sincerity in them. “Are you gonna kiss me again now?” I murmur.
A small smile skitters across his lips. Instead of replying, Gage lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me.
His lips are soft, the pressure perfect. He smells like sunshine and salt air and sea. He feels like home—safe and steady and sure. I lean into him and close my eyes.
