Neither did I, because I thought the person I wanted didn’t want me.
Erika jumps in, blowing all my brain cells into tiny fragments. “Until we admitted how we felt about one another, I never thought he’d settle down either, Sage.” She sets her mug down on the kitchen island and walks over to me, over exaggerating a hip wiggle, pulling at the bottom of my T-shirt as if trying to cover herself up, which she shouldn’t. I love her endless legs.
She looks me dead in the eye with a smirk playing across her mouth. “But it turns out that all he needed was the love of a good woman. Isn’t that right, baby?” she coos, sounding seductive.
What is she doing?
Next, she lifts her hand to my face and plants a soft kiss to my lips, then another, and I almost come in my boxers.
She’s kissing me. In front of someone. This is real and happening.
I grab Erika, loop my arm around her waist, and hold her against me, not caring that we have an audience, and kiss her back slowly at first before pushing my tongue into her mouth, and it’s like a bomb going off in my brain as our tongues touch again. Every cell, nerve, and neural pathway opens up, expands, in what feels like yet another life-altering moment.
The room feels like it’s spinning, my mind doing the same.
“Wow, well, that’s all the proof I needed. I guess I should go.” Sage’s faint chuckle fades away, and the next thing I hear is the front door closing, signaling she’s gone.
Erika pulls away, all dopey-eyed, swollen-lipped, and breathless. “Well, that got rid of her. You’re welcome.”
Please don’t stop kissing me. I want more.
I’m fucking panting like a dog in heat on a summer’s day.
“I didn’t want Sage here. I played dirty to get my own way,” she says between our deep, erotic kisses.
I’m dumbfounded by how bold she was in front of Sage. “I like it when you play dirty.” I brush my lips against her mouth before pulling back and stare into her eyes that read mine: we can’t believe this is actually happening.
Her brows furrow. “You don’t kiss on the lips?” She seems confused by that.
“I don’t.”
Shock makes Erika inhale a breath. “But you kiss me. I’ve lost count of how many times.”
“Six times.” I’m keeping score. I grin at her and move closer, desperate to feel her lips on mine again. “I don’t kiss hookups. I’ve only ever kissed two women since I was drafted to the NHL.”
“Gigi and me?” she guesses.
After kissing two girls in high school that I never felt anything for, I vowed not to kiss anyone unless they were important to me. Gigi and I dated for a good while; if I hadn’t kissed her, it would have been weird. Ultimately, I did it just to please her.
“I kissed Gigi, yes, but it never felt like it does with you.”
I give her space to let her think about that.
“Why?” She steps out of my arms, and I miss her instantly. “Why do you not kiss?”
“Kissing for me is about vulnerability. Trust and a way of expressing affection. Long, sinful kisses, soft pecks, slowones, touching tongues, that’s a level of intimacy and physical closeness that has so much passion and power. That’s why I don’t kiss just anyone.” I plan on kissing Erika and only her for the rest of my life.
“But…” She struggles to make sense of my admission, as if her thought is stuck like a broken record. “So, you really are telling the truth about liking me for all these years?”
I nod slowly. “I promise never to hide anything from you again. I’m in love with you, Erika.” It’s all laid bare for her to hear. “The first time I kissed you, it was like the world tipped on its axis. It meant something to me. The planets shifted, the sun shone brighter, hell knows what happened, but it touched me in ways I never fully understood at the time.
“Then there was Gigi, but there was no spark. Still, I gave us a shot even though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was who I wanted to be with, and that’s what ultimately made us split up. She knew I wasn’t in love with her. All the other girls I slept with were just a means to get off, but you, you were everything. You are my everything.” I pull her into my arms again and squeeze her tight. “I’m sorry if some of that is hard to hear.”
“It’s fine. I like your honesty.” She plays with the top button on my Henley. “It’s refreshing, and I like how much we are opening up to each other.” Her fingertip moves to her mouth and traces her bottom lip as if recalling my mouth on hers.
She surprises me when she says, “Our kisses don’t feel the same as when we were younger.”
“No?” Worry clouds the clear water I thought we were in now.
