Maeve purses her lips as she rises and takes my hand. “Can you even dance?”
I plaster a mock-offended frown on my face, though my lips twitch. “Hey, I’ve got rhythm.”
“I know you’ve got stamina. Let’s see about this rhythm.”
She laughs as I spin her under my arm, and then we sway with the music.
For a while, we just move, quietly, arms around one another.
I soak in this moment.
Maeve. My Maeve.
How am I lucky enough to claim this woman as mine?
She glances up at me, and I drink in those beautiful freckles, those glowing, sparkling brown eyes…
My first attempt to kiss her leaves us yelping in pain.
“My lip?—”
“My nose?—”
“Sorry.” We both apologize in unison and snicker.
Shit, I can’t even breathe when I’m kissing her. Stupid broken nose.
Not that I let such a puny injury deter me. This time, I ease my mouth onto hers, careful not to exert any sudden pressure. In about two seconds, though, my tongue is plunging deep.
She pulls back with a huff. “Ow, Kellin.”
“I know, I know. Sorry, darlin’.”
She pokes my chest, her fingers lingering for a moment before sliding down. “We don’t have to kiss.”
“I think we do.”
“No, I mean…” Wiggling her eyebrows, she slips her hand inside my sweats.
I moan, instantly hard. “We don’t have to kiss.”
She drops my sweats and briefs, releasing my cock. Then she pushes me gently back onto the couch, peels off her yoga pants, and straddles me while staring into my eyes.
I’m going to have every freckle on her face memorized by the end of the night.
And I can’t wait.
Epilogue
Brody
My father slides a folder across his desk. I scan the first page.
Female, twenty-two, five-six, slender, coppery hair. Green eyes. Birth mark on right arm. Wears glasses. Left-handed. Favorite flowers are gardenias.
I glance up. “What the hell is this?”
“Keep reading.”
