But if I truly mean she’s safe with me, then I have to lether wantme there.
Not leap becauseI wantto be there.
“I’m proud of you for doing the scary things.” I’mproud of her. That’s not what I want to tell her.
I want to tell her so much more.
You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.
I fantasize about you hourly.
Shampooing your hair is my favorite memory.
I want you back in my bed, every night, for eternity, and I want to make you coffee and breakfast every morning.
“What if it takes me years to fully get there?” she says.
“Can we hang out during those years?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any chance you’ll let me kiss you during those years?”
Her “yes” is softer this time, with a hint of longing that makes me hard so fast my balls ache.
“I would enjoy kissing you again.” My voice is softer too. Husky. Raw. I don’t want to scare her. Butfuck, I miss kissing her. Holding her. Having sex with her. Telling her stories and listening to all of her stories too. Laughing with her.
I adjust my cock, which is hard as granite just from hearing her voice.
I miss this woman.
Iwantthis woman.
“When I texted you after I saw you throw out the first pitch—it wasn’t about hooking up again,” she says. “I just wanted to ask you to be discreet about that night after my interview. But you’reso damn irresistible and you don’t even try. You’re so easy to be with, andthatis the scariest thing about you.”
Don’t be scared, Addie. Don’t be scared. Easy means it’s right. “I’ll work on that.”
She doesn’t laugh. “I’m not easy to be with, Duncan.”
“Yes, you are.”
Her breath hitches. “No, I?—”
“You are to me.”
She huffs a soft laugh. “Who have you been dating to make me look easy?”
“It’s you, Addie. Not in comparison to anybody. Just you. You get the drive and passion I have for playing hockey because you have the same drive and passion for coaching baseball. I like that. Ineedthat. Even after hockey, there’ll be something. I don’t go halfway. I can’t. You get that.”
She makes a soft noise that makes me want to physically be with her so badly, it hurts.
I swallow. “When you get home and kick your shoes off and let your hair down, you’re as big of a marshmallow as any of us in downtime. When we’re with family and friends. With the people we let in. When we don’t worry about how we’ll look if we get a little too tipsy or too competitive or too honest. I’ve always felt the obligation to go overboard taking care of the people in my life, and you—you don’t need me to take care of you. You just need me to stand next to you. It’s nice. I like it. I likeyou.”
She’s quiet again. I hear more distant laughter. I’d ask if I’m keeping her from the party, but she’s not there for a party. She’s there because she needed to see her friend.
If she wanted to go talk to everyone else, she would.
“I don’t know if anyone has ever liked me…for me,” she finally whispers.
