When Alex’s fingers still on my neck, a shock of cold runs down my legs. My hands flex at my sides, but I don’t touch her. Clearly, I’ve said the wrong thing, even though I’ve only told her the truth.
I want to take care of Alex in every way I can think of—from helping her get back to the sport she loves, to feeding her at every opportunity, to fixing things in her apartment. Even tiny things, like flipping her press badge so her grin is facing outward or letting her know a hair is out of place before the camera rolls brings me immense joy.
The thing that presses a red-hot poker into my ribs is that taking care of her is just the beginning. I want to spend every second I’m not on the field with Alex. I want her to laugh at me—with me—I don’t really care just as long as I get to be with her. I want to hear all her stories and tell her mine. I want more than an “intentionally transactional professional relationship” or even a friendship.
I want to love her, because I realized as freezing salt spray soaked us that I already do. I love Alex Stevens—whole-heartedly, fervently…hopelessly.
But obviously, I’m the only one feeling this way.
Closing my eyes with a defeated exhale, I move to step back.
Only…I can’t.
Alex’s hands splay over the tops of my shoulders, keeping me in place.
“Wait,” she whispers.
The pads of her fingertips press into my suit, but she doesn’t say anything else, almost as if she’s warring with herself. Her lashes flutter, but she doesn’t raise her gaze. A tight pinch settles between her golden brows, and I’m certain she’ll push me away.
But then Alex raises her chin, her warm brown eyes locking on mine as she leans in to kiss me.
Chapter 30
Alex
Before our lips touch, I already know this kiss will be different than the one outside of the hotel. There’s an honesty to this moment that wasn’t present last time. Then, we were too focused on battling wits and getting the upper hand. Tucked within this small stall beneath the warmth of the shower spray, I’ve never felt more sure that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I used to get this whole-body calm after dropping into a wave at exactly the right moment. It always felt like the energy vibrating in my muscles matched that of the water. With my lips a hair’s breadth from Tenny’s, a similar sensation ofrightnesswashes over me.
Sliding my fingers into his hair, I softly press my mouth to his. His low grunt followed by his fingers framing my waist sends heat tumbling down my spine. I smile at how Tenny’s lips taste like the ocean, how his fingers twitch possessively at my sides.
I take my time deepening the kiss, relishing the way Tenny responds to each touch. One of his hands comes to gently frame my face while his other hand presses against my lower back with the perfect pressure. The way he’s being careful with me, even though he could use his tongue to knock the thoughts out of my head, only makes me more certain of my decision.
The second I swept my fingers beneath Tenny’s collar, I realized something else I’d been afraid of.
Him.
I’d been terrified of falling for Tenny, only to be hurt again. But just like with the ocean, that fear wasn’t rooted in logic. Because the reality of the situation was that I had kissed Tenny after one fake-date but was never clear with him about what I wanted. Had I told Tenny that I wanted us to date exclusively, I’m certain he would have honored that wish.
Instead of facing logic, I got into the weeds of fear, doubting his motives, thinking the worst of him. Just like I’d done with the ocean, I worried that I’d get hurt again even when I’d been cleared to surf nine months after my accident.
Before regret over lost time can churn in my stomach, I focus back on the man in front of me. His beard scruff scratches my cheek in the most delicious way as he kisses down to the sensitivespot beneath my ear. When his lips settle there, sparks shoot over my closed eyes.
Banding my arms around his neck, I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. Tenny easily catches me with one hand, his other tilting my jaw so he can kiss me deeper. A pliable sound escapes me, and he hums in response, rocking our foreheads together before kissing me again. My heart feels like it’s simultaneously liquified and beaming beyond the confines of my body.
Then something shifts.
Tenny’s confident, controlled approach unravels into something frantic yet heart-wrenchingly earnest. Between mind-altering sweeps of his mouth, he murmurs against my lips.
“I want to be with you all the time.” Kiss. “Do you have a passport?” Kiss. “How do you feel about chinchillas?” Kiss. “Also, how attached are you to your car?” Kiss with a low groan. “Holding you is better than hitting that grand slam.” Kiss. “Tell me that I get to do this again.” Reality-shattering kiss. “Please, Alex.”
Goosebumps shoot over my arms at the broken sound of his plea. Taking his face in both of my hands, I pull back to look at him. Tenny’s blue eyes blink open, and the shock of connection sprinting through my veins feels stronger than the pull of the tide.
“Yes,” I say, breathless.
“Yes?”
The corner of my mouth slips up. “Yeah…to everything. Kissing like this. Chinchillas. Passports. Everything.”
