“I love you, Blaze…” I whispered, my eyes locked onto hers.
She smiled through the tears welling in her eyes, and I felt mine sting the same way.
“Of course you do…” she teased, trying to keep this from turning into a full-on sobfest.
I let out a soft laugh, pressing my lips to her neck, tracing them along those damn freckles, breathing her in.
“Of course I do…” I repeated. Finally, I slid inside her. Nothing felt as perfect. Like we were made this, for each other. She moaned, and I barely got the words out before I lost myself in her completely. “Of course I do…”
34
JULES
“Ican’t believe you’ve never watched Notting Hill,” Chris called from the bedroom as I made my way to the kitchen to grab us some popcorn.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I shouted back. “The idea of a Hollywood actress falling for a nobody sounded way too fake.” I heard him laugh, and it made me laugh too. I was halfway to the kitchen, barefoot and wearing his shirt over the short shorts I’d had on under my dress, when I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart jumped to my throat.
There were two people sitting on the living room couch.
“Fuck!” I yelped, nearly tripping. One hand shot out to the wall to hold me upright, while the other clutched the oversized shirt tight over my body. The older man stood up quickly, like he could somehow help me from across the room.
“Oh…” the woman next to him chuckled gently. “I’m sorry, dear.”
My face flushed as I regained what little composure I had left.
“Chris!” I yelled toward the hallway. He was alreadyhalfway down it, probably had moved the second I screamed. He entered the living room and froze.
“Mom. Dad.” He sounded as shocked as I was. I looked at the woman again. Those eyes were definitely his. His mother. Of course. “What are you doing here?”
Relief washed through me. We weren’t about to be murdered by strangers. But then dread quickly followed. Because those strangers were Chris’ parents, and I was currently half-dressed and very, very exposed. Chris didn’t look thrilled to see them. Judging by his expression, this was definitely not a planned visit.
“You’ve been avoiding your mother’s calls for weeks,” his father snapped, “and having that Vanessa person send messages like she’s some kind of fan club secretary.”
Okay. So that’s the vibe. Got it.
This was clearly a family moment. I slowly backed away. But Chris reached out and grabbed my arm, firmly enough that I gasped.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said without looking at me. “They’re leaving.”
Chris and his dad locked into an intense staring contest. The kind that made it hard to breathe. From everything I’d heard—and dreamed—about Chris’ relationship with his dad, this made sense. And as someone with my personal brand of father-related emotional baggage, I knew better than to step in.
“Honey,” his mom finally cut it, thank God, “if you were busy with your lady friend, you could’ve told me. I would’ve understood.”
“Mom!”Chris groaned, like an embarrassed teenager. I tried not to laugh. Failed, obviously.
His mom looked at me and gave me a shy wave.
“Hi,” she whispered and waved.
I smiled, returning the wave. “Hi.”
His dad still had fire in his eyes.
“You’re not going to offer us a drink? Introduce your friend to your mother? Try to be a decent son once in your life?”
Chris inhaled slowly, visibly trying not to explode.
“You’re one to talk.”
