by Grey, S. R.
And we’ll have that chance real soon. It’s nearing evening, and Zane is due to arrive at the house any minute.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air.
Can you tell I’m excited?
I even chose a cute outfit—black leggings and a fuzzy pink angora sweater with one shoulder down, exposing the white tank I have on underneath.
Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom that stretches across one entire wall, I fluff out my long auburn hair and brush it to shiny perfection.
I even dig out my seldom-used makeup bag so I can put on a little bit of mascara and a light touch of lip gloss.
Since I haven’t seen Zane in what feels like a freaking long-ass time, I want to look good for him.
What does that mean? a little voice taunts.
Ha, I already know the answer.
It’s the same as it always is—I like the guy.
And as of right freaking now, I am done worrying about it.
I mean, crap, I think Zane likes me too.
We shall see…
Sometimes you have to stop fighting the inevitable.
Fate always wins in the end, right?
“Right,” I murmur to my reflection.
Hopefully Zane sees it that way too.
I’m going to find out tonight, damn it.
That’s right—I’m making a move.
To hell with the consequences.
Under the Stars
I do a lot of thinking at training camp. And I mean a lot. After all, it is a full two weeks of football with lots of downtime in between.
I come to one conclusion right away—I hate how I acted shitty with Morgan the night before I left.
Well, really the whole week prior.
That was uncalled for
I was trying to back way the fuck off, but I see now that what I did was really fucking stupid.
This leads to realization number two…
How is she supposed to let me know her true feelings when I’m acting cold and distant?
“She can’t, dumbass,” I admonish out loud as I drive out to the house for a night in the back with her and a roaring fire. “You have to make it comfortable for her to open up.”
And I want so badly for her to open up.
That’s another thing I decided at camp.
In between catching balls and running routes, I realized I want Morgan as more than a friend.
I think I’ve known that for a while, as I’m really into her. But, yeah, I’m curious where things may go if we just let “us” happen.
There is an “us” too, just one that’s not defined as more than friends…yet.
I think that’s going to change, though.
There’s just far too much chemistry and pull to act as if there’s nothing there.
Still, we have some stuff to work out first.
Like, I want her to stay at my house as long as she likes. There doesn’t have to be a “revisiting options” point like we originally discussed.
Also if she doesn’t want more than friendship, I’ve made up my mind that that’s fine too.
Though I kind of think she does want more.
She did almost kiss me that one morning.
I know it.
I wish she had.
My feelings for Morgan have grown since we met a month ago. It feels like so much longer. I guess due to all the time we spend together.
“That’s why I’m going to say ‘fuck it’ and take a chance, let her know how I really feel.”
I declare this out loud as I’m turning onto the recently completed driveway. It looks great, by the way.
Softly, I go on, “Tonight I’m going to fix what I messed up last time we were out back.”
As the SUV trundles down to the house, my excitement grows.
I can’t wait to see my girl.
Well, she’s not my girl.
But she could be.
“Maybe. We’ll see,” I murmur as I hastily park.
Yeah, I’m an anxious man tonight.
Once I’m inside the house, I find a note from Morgan that’s taped to a wooden horse one of the workers has set up in the almost finished entry hall.
There are three simple words on it—I’m out back.
So that’s where I go.
As I walk through the house to the french doors that lead to the stone patio, I smooth down my dark blue button-down shirt, roll up the sleeves a bit, and then run my fingers through my hair.
I want to look nice but not too obvious.
That’s why I paired the nice dress shirt with faded jeans and casual shoes.
When I step out back, Morgan is leaning over the wood pile, picking out logs for the fire.
Damn, she has an amazing ass.
I love when I catch her like this.
I clear my throat, and she spins around.
“Zane,” she murmurs softly.
She smiles, and time stops right the fuck there.
“Hey” is all my stupid ass can think to say in return.
This woman fucking mesmerizes me.
She gestures to the wood pile as she tries to hide her knowing grin. “I was, uh, just picking out some firewood, but… Oh, what the hell…”
She comes to me with no hesitation and gives me a huge hug.
Her arms are heaven around me.
I hold on to her, and she murmurs against my chest, “It’s so freaking good to see you.”
I start rubbing her back gently, reverently.
She feels so slight beneath the soft pink sweater she has on.
“I’m glad to be back,” I reply happily.
“You and me both, Zane. You and me both.”
“Morgan…” I hold her a little more tightly.
This is raw emotion, and we’re not fighting it.
But it’s a lot, and I think neither of us is sure where to take it next. So I’m not surprised when she pulls back.
“Uh, I guess we should start the fire, huh?” she says, her eyes averted.
Ah, see, we’re not quite there.
This is a push and pull.
Early points in relationships often are a dance.
That’s okay.
I can wait.
She still sets the pace.
“Sounds good,” I say lightly. “Let me grab some more wood.”
Over at the large neatly stacked pile at the edge of the patio, I choose a few more logs.
Adding those to the wood Morgan has already placed in the fire pit, I say, “All we need now is some kindling to get this thing started.”
“I have that covered,” she says excitedly.
See, we’re getting back to normal already.
She rushes over to the stone steps leading down from the patio and lifts a tall orange bucket. It’s like the ones I’ve seen in the house that the contractors use. She must have snagged one.
When she comes closer, I see it’s filled with small sticks and twigs.
Setting the bucket down next to the fire pit, she says, “I took a walk earlier in the woods and gathered all of this. I made sure only to choose the really dried-out branches and twigs.”
“Perfect,” I say as I begin breaking up the sticks and placing them in among the larger logs.
Within a few minutes, we get the logs burning.
And soon have a beautiful fire.
With both of us adding logs as time wears on, the blaze not only warms us, but bathes the entire patio in a soothing amber glow.
At one point, we ditch the Adirondack chairs for two of the long padded wide loungers and move them so close they’re almost touching.
After some minor small talk, Morgan asks me about training camp.
I tell her, “It went really well. With the addition of Graham, we should perform way better than last year. Still, I don’t think we’re ready to go all the way to the championship game just yet. But we should do well. I’m encouraged after camp.”
Morgan peers over at me, engaged and
interested. “That’s great, Zane. And as long as you do the best you can do, that’s what matters.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I sigh. “But it takes more than one person for the team to be successful.”
“True,” she acknowledges with a nod.
Since I’ve had enough football these past two weeks, I change the subject by bringing up the progress on the house.
“I can’t believe how much was done while I was away.”
That gets Morgan excited.
It’s cute she’s this amped about my house.
“I know, right?” she gushes, smiling over at me. “Just wait until you have a look around.”
“I bet I’ll be surprised,” I say. “Just driving up and walking through to get out here had me impressed.”
Sounding suddenly subdued, Morgan says, “I guess you’ll be moving in by the beginning of October for sure now, huh? Maybe even sooner.”
“Yeah, sooner is definitely possible.” I shrug, and then I twist toward her and adopt a more serious tone. “About that…”
She looks worried as she whispers, “Yeah?”
Soothingly, I say, “Look, I had a lot of time to think at training camp, and I don’t see any reason why you can’t stay at the house even after I move in. I mean, there are tons of rooms in this place, right?”
“It is big,” she agrees, turning slightly to look back at the house. Facing me again, she asks, “Why did you build such a large home? It seems like a lot for one person.”
“It is,” I agree. “But I’m hoping it won’t be for one person for forever, you know?” Our eyes meet, but she looks away and clears her throat. I go on, undeterred. “So as I was saying, since it is such a big place, that’s even more reason for you to stay.” Since I don’t want her to feel pressured, I also add, “You can choose a bedroom and we can move your bed in there. It’s kind of yours now, anyway. We can even pick out some furniture. That is, if you want all that.”
She looks uneasy. “I don’t know, Zane. It is a lot.”
I shrug. “I have to furnish the other rooms regardless. So it’s really no big deal.”
She still looks uncertain, but only slightly so now.
“That is true,” she murmurs.
I can tell she’s warming to the idea.
“So what do you say?” I ask. “Do you want to stick around?”
I watch her carefully and see the point where she gives in.
Blowing out a breath, she admits, “I do like it here, so I’d love to stay. But I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want to be able to pull my own weight.” She clears her throat. “I think once some more time passes, and if there’s still no sign of Neil, I should get a job.”
That surprises me.
“Oh, okay. You don’t have to pay for anything, though. I make more than enough.”
“Still, I want to help out.”
“You already do,” I counter. “You cook most of the meals we share.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” She chuckles. “But I’d like to pay for some of the ingredients, at least.”
I give in on that.
“All right.”
Since she seems set on the job thing, I offer, “You can use my Escalade if you need to go on interviews or whatever.”
“No, I can’t do that!” She starts shaking her head. “I have a charge card with a little bit of credit left on it. I’ll just rent a car.”
I can rent the car for her, but I don’t offer to right away.
No need to completely overwhelm the poor girl.
Small steps work best with us.
So pretending to give in, I say, “Sure.”
The fire begins to die down, and I notice Morgan shivering.
I pat the space next to me on the wide lounger. “Do you want to come over and join me? There’s plenty of room, and it’ll be a lot warmer. I promise you that.”
I expect her to say no, but some emotion crosses her face.
Is it determination, a decision made, perhaps?
It would seem so, as she nods and states definitively, “Yes, I think I will come over and join you.”
I like that we’re back in our comfort zone.
The ease between us is what drew me to her from the start.
With no hesitation, Morgan joins me on the lounger.
I have to laugh.
I love how once she’s made a decision, she fucking goes with it.
I scoot over as much as possible to accommodate her, and so that we’re not all up on each other. But there’s no way around it—we’re pretty damn close.
“Is this okay?” she asks tentatively as she wiggles around, getting comfortable beside me.
“Of course it’s fine.” I move my arm, but once she’s in place, there’s nowhere to put it but back around her.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
“Of course,” she echoes back, grinning and lifting so I can slip my arm more fully under her.
Leaning back once more, she rests her head on my chest and peers up at the night sky.
“Wow,” she marvels. “Check out all those stars.”
“There are a lot,” I agree as I take in the black night sky dotted with pinpoints of light.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs in wonderment.
“It is. That’s another reason why I love it out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I can see why.”
Under those beautiful stars, and snuggled in close, we talk and talk into the night. Not about anything heavy, just small stuff.
I ask her at one point what her favorite color is, and she tells me, “Green.”
“Huh.”
“What about you?” She twists to peer up at me. “What’s yours?”
“I don’t really have a favorite color,” I confess. “I like different ones better than others depending on my mood.”
“Oh come on,” she groans. “You must have a favorite.”
Looking down at my navy shirt, I confess, “I guess I am a little partial to blue.”
“See.” She pats my chest. “Then that’s your favorite.”
I laugh. “Maybe, but it could be just for today.”
“Zane,” she chastises, shaking her head. Leaning back against my shoulder, she asks, “So now that training camp is over, when’s your first game?”
“In a couple of days.”
She twists again to look up at me. “Are you excited?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I’m a little nervous as well.”
“Aw, you’ll be fine.”
Tightening my arm around her as she reassumes her original position, I say softly, “I wish you could come to the game.”
Cheerfully, she states, “Don’t worry. I plan to watch it on that big ole TV in the living room. I’ll be cheering you on from there.”
I’m kind of surprised she’s this enthusiastic and blurt out, “You’re really going to watch?”
“I sure am.” She looks up at me once more, and damn she’s beyond gorgeous in the orangey glow of the fire. “I’m looking forward to seeing you play.”
“You mean watching the whole team play, right?”
“No. I mean watching you, Zane.”
That’s when I just fucking do it.
No more thinking, no more delays.
No more waiting for her to make the move.
She may never do it, and I can’t let this moment slip away.
So, leaning down, I touch my lips to hers, just a soft brush, nothing more.
When she freezes, though, I’m convinced I just fucked things up beyond belief.
But before I can pull away and start apologizing profusely, she captures my bottom lip with hers.
Ahh, so this is okay.
I suck in her top lip, and she scoots up higher to lie on my chest so we can just kiss the crap out of each other.
Our lips move, our tongues touch, and Morgan mewls the sexiest little groans.
It makes me hard a
s fuck.
But even though I ended up making the first move, I still plan to let her set the pace for where this goes from here.
She seems content with making out, and that’s fine with me.
So, writhing and gasping beneath the stars, we fucking do exactly that.
Bliss
I’m done fighting what I’ve been feeling. I made that decision earlier.
I was going to make the first move, anyway, right?
Well now I don’t have to, as Zane just leaned down and pressed his delicious full lips to mine.
He feels amazing.
I’m in shock for a beat and do nothing but savor what I’ve been dreaming about.
But uh-oh, I think he’s worried I’m not into him.
With no more hesitation, I start kissing him back—like really freaking kissing the man.
Now this is bliss.
As we make out under the stars, Zane doesn’t push. I sense he’s letting me set the pace. I’d like to go wild and jump his bones, but I don’t want to ruin whatever this is that we’re building.
It feels too special.
I think he knows that too.
That’s why he’s not escalating.
In fact, Zane is gentle and sweet with me—a soft caress here, a tender touch there.
Of course we pick it up a bit after a while, with groping and pressing together of bodies.
He feels so hard and strong with his upper body stretched across mine.
I raise one knee and twist into him.
I could spend all night out here under the stars with this guy.
But we can’t.
The fire’s dying down and it’s getting really chilly. And there’s the fact we both know someone has to stop or we’ll go further—much further.
I take the lead in slowing things down, turning my open-mouth kisses to tiny pecks.
“Hmmm,” Zane hums, “now this has been a perfect night.”
“The best yet,” I agree, brushing his lips with mine playfully.
Scooting down, I nestle against his strong chest.
He pulls me in closer, murmuring, “Morgan, Morgan…”
As I toy with a button on his shirt, I tentatively ask, “What happens now?”
I look up at him, and when our eyes meet, he asks, “What do you want to happen?”
I shrug, uncertain as to what to say.
Hell with it, I just go with the truth. “I, uh, I don’t really know to be honest.”
