Page 39 of Last Slice of Pie

Everyone in the room disappears as we stare at each other, heat rolls through me, and I remind myself I have to breathe.

This guy, what he does to me . . . I feel like I’m going to burst through my skin. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he looks even better than he did before. He’s larger than life, and definitely more irresistible than ever.

I can’t wait to get my hands on him.

Approaching slowly, he stops in front of me and bends down to kiss my cheek. The smell of his body wash flirts with my senses, and as his warm lips brush my cheek, my head tilts an infinitesimally small degree toward him.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, just low enough so no one else hears him.

“Thank you for inviting me. You were incredible today.” We aren’t touching, but we may as well be for as close as he’s standing next to me.

Bryan pulls back just a little to get a better look at my face. He’s so familiar and so close I can see the individual hairs in the stubble across his jawline, the silver flecks in his eyes.

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes.” Right this moment, I would go anywhere with him if he asked.

“Good. I’m riding with you.” He turns us toward the exit, and as we start walking, his free arm drapes over my shoulders, pulling me close. I wrap my arm around his waist and together, as one, we leave. A few people call out to him and he nods in response, but not once does he let go. Neither do I.

“What about your truck?” I ask as we make our way into the secure parking lot.

“Jack picked me up.” His voice rumbles through his chest and I feel it. I feel it and him everywhere.

“Convenient,” I say, glancing up at him and smiling.

He grins down at me, and that one little dimple that drives me crazy comes out as he says, “Very.”

Honey Balsamic Blueberry Pie

SHE’S WEARING MY jersey.

Lots of people wear my jersey—lots of girls, even—but for some reason, seeing it on her, standing in the family room . . . it was a really big moment for me. I feel proud. So proud.

I knew people were going to be staring at us, but that didn’t stop me from trying to get to her as fast as possible. Other than James, I’ve never had anyone on the other side of that door waiting for me, and damn did it feel so good. I needed to get us both out of there before I caused a scene.

I’ve also never had a girl over to my house before, at least not one who’s there for me.

One time I hosted our offensive dinner, but other than that, only a few times have Coach or any of the other players stopped by. Mostly, it’s just been James, Jack, and Reid and Camille, and those times are few and far between.

“So, this is where you live,” she states more than asks as I direct her to drive through the private gate, which I’ve opened with an app on my phone.

“Yep.”

She parks the car and we get out silently. Most of the trip to the house was silent, the air between us so thick it felt combustible.

I take her hand, we walk to the front door, and I unlock it then usher us inside. I’d like to say I’m a complete gentleman to her, but again, she’s in my jersey, in my house, it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her, and I need to taste her more than I need air.

Closing the door, I turn to face her, push her up against it, and without waiting any longer, my mouth lands on hers.

A tiny noise escapes her, and the sound shoots straight below the belt.

We’re alone.

We’re finally alone, and she’s one hundred percent on board with this kiss as her hands instantly reach around my neck and her fingers dig into my hair. Tilting her head, I open my mouth wider and consume her. This kiss is urgent, wet, and I don’t leave any aspect unexplored.

Bending down, I reach behind her thighs and lift her up. She wraps her legs tightly around my waist, and I lean into her, flattening her against the door. Her body is now flush with mine, and I try to slow my breathing so I don’t miss any of this, any of her.

Time passes, and it’s time well spent. We make out like we are starved for each other. Hell, maybe we are. This kiss . . . it’s got years and years of aching and longing wrapped up in it, and I never want it to stop. She tastes sweet, like mine, and I plan on keeping her that way.