My throat.
The backs of my knees.
He presses one more kiss to the corner of my mouth—the exact place he branded in the gym—and I think,finally.
Finally he’s here.
Finally he’s going to stop being good.
Finally all of this waiting is over.
Instead he takes one step back.
Just one.
Enough to leave cold air where his body was.
I blink at him.
He looks wrecked.
Not calm. Not unaffected. Not remotely above any of this.
If anything, stepping back seems to cost him something physical.
His hands flex once at his sides before he shoves them into his pockets.
And then he says, “I need you to trust me.”
I stare.
“That is not what I thought you were going to say.”
That pulls a real smile from him.
Low.
Crooked.
Lethal.
“I know.”
I fold my arms, mostly so I don’t launch myself back at him and make this decision for both of us.
He takes me in for another long second, and I can feel it—the heat in him, the pull, the way every part of his body is broadcasting want even while his voice stays controlled.
It is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“I have a surprise,” he says.
I just look at him.
“Okay…”
“After your practice tomorrow morning, I want you to meet me early.”
“How early?”
