Page 164 of Broken Blades

She stood in the hallway.

Wearing red and black lingerie.

My team colors.

Her hands clasped nervously in front of her, fingers twisting together. Her cheeks burned crimson. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, and the delicate lace clung to every curve in a way that made my entire brain short-circuit.

She looked mortified.

"I thought it would be funny," she muttered, not quite meeting my eyes. "And then I put it on and realized it's actually terrifying."

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't process anything except the sight of her standing there in red lace that matched the Serpents' jerseys hanging in my closet.

"…Sweetheart."

She winced. "Too much?"

I stepped toward her slowly. Deliberately. "You think I care what you're wearing?"

Her cheeks flushed deeper, breath quickening. "You don't?"

I smirked. "I'd take you in my jersey." Another step closer. "Or naked."

Her breath caught audibly.

I reached her in three strides, hands settling on her hips, fingers sliding over the lace at her waist. She tilted her head back to look at me, eyes wide and uncertain and so damn beautiful it physically hurt.

"Wyatt…"

I kissed her.

Hard.

Claiming.

She melted into me instantly, arms wrapping around my neck, body pressing against mine like she couldn't get close enough.

The takeout sat forgotten on the counter. The house stayed silent except for the soft sounds of her breathing, the quiet rustle of fabric, the low groan I couldn't quite suppress when her fingers slid into my hair.

I lifted her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and I walked her backward toward the couch without breaking the kiss.

When I finally pulled back just enough to look at her, she was flushed and breathless and smiling. "So… not terrifying?"

I laughed—a low, rough sound that surprised even me. "Sweetheart, you could show up in a garbage bag and I'd still want you."

She bit her lip, eyes sparkling. "That's weirdly romantic."

"I'm weirdly romantic."

She laughed, and the sound filled the entire house.

I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the way she sighed against my mouth. The way her hands traced the muscles in my shoulders. The way she trusted me completely, even when she was nervous.

When I set her down gently on the couch and settled over her, she looked up at me with so much warmth it nearly undid me.

"I love you," she whispered.

My chest tightened. "I love you too."