by Liora Blake
I step forward and take her face in my hands. I kiss her. Hard and fierce, long and heated, the way we both need and deserve. When I pull back, her eyes stay closed. I brush a few tendrils of hair off her forehead and kiss a spot there.
“Our kids will be awesome. Rolling coal or mudding, playing ball or trying to save the world one tree at a time, they’ll be perfect. Don’t worry about that.”
I kiss her again, softer this time. Once we both retreat, I take another glance around the kitchen. I need a notepad. So many things to do.
Whitney pinches my side. “Hey, don’t do that right now—disappear on me and into your head. Speak, Cooper.”
“I’m thinking about all the things we need to do. I mean, we can’t raise kids in this house—it’s too small. We have to remodel. Or, shit, we’ll build another house, one for us to live in, and keep this as base for the orchard. Maybe we can set up a retail store here and really focus on agritourism endeavors. Tours, a gift shop, a farm stand—”
Before I can catch her, Whitney is slumping out of my arms and landing softly, cross-legged on the kitchen floor. I panic, thinking she just executed the world’s most graceful fainting episode, but when she lazily drops her head into her palms, I realize she came to sit on the floor on purpose. I do my best to find the floor right in front of her, albeit less gracefully.
My hands come to her shoulders and I give them the gentlest shake I can offer. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
Her head rocks back and forth in her upturned palms. Finally, Whitney lifts her head to face me and her eyes are worried.
“This is enough for you, right? I don’t want you to leave football unless you’re sure. Don’t do it for me, or this place. All of it will be here when the time is right. Do it when you’re ready.”
My fucking amazing Whitney. Checking in to be sure I’ve made my own decision the right way. If I’d had any reservations, this would have sealed the deal. She’s the best person I could hope to share a life with because she understands why I am the way I am—the traits that I built my success on are the same traits that make moving on so hard. But Whitney is generous and funny, full of fire and heart—and she’s made me want to find the same in myself, here, with her.
“I’m ready. This is the right time; I’m sure of it.”
I urge her closer, and Whitney crawls into my lap, straddling her legs around my waist and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. My dick immediately registers the position of our bodies, and he’s quickly able to deduce how easily we could make this scene less about emotion and more about some serious makeup fucking. The front of her body presses to mine and my hands itch to perform a complete inspection of her tits, of size and weight and softness, but I force myself to keep them around her waist. She draws back and taps her index finger gently to the center of my forehead.
“You’re doing it again. Disappearing into your head.”
I blink. “I was thinking about your tits.”
Her mouth drops open slightly, her face blank for a moment. Then she laughs, sounding light but exasperated. Maybe I should apologize for objectifying her. Gently, I press my lips to her temple.
“I was also thinking about how from damn near day one, I think you got what makes me tick. And you never asked me to be something else; you just loved me anyway. I just want to make you feel the same way.”
Whitney puts a soft kiss to each of my now-closed eyelids. Voice lowered, she nearly whispers. “You do.”
Another kiss, this time to my forehead.
“But I don’t love you anyway. I love you because. Because you’re a grouch, because you’re determined, because you’re a good man. Because, Cooper.”
I stifle the contented sigh that wants to escape. I am not an adolescent girl. I do not swoon or sigh, unless that sigh is to express my exasperation or irritation. But on the inside? I’m an almost-retired pro football player who’s doodling hearts and kittens in my Trapper Keeper.
Whitney shifts her weight and my dick gets us back on track. I use one of my hands to trace the V-neck of her sweater, then tug the neckline down far enough that the lace of her bra comes into view. She takes a slow, deep breath in.
“You do realize I can’t actually watch a game on that TV, right?”
Whitney makes a half-hearted questioning sound and arches her back, moving all of her softness closer to my hands. Screw it. I think she missed this part almost as much as I did. I tug the sweater and the lace cup down until she’s on display. She releases a soft moan as her head drops back. I haven’t even really touched her yet, so now’s probably the time to let her in on what needs to happen. Pretty sure if I do this right, I’ll get my way.
“I’ll need a big screen. Like a seventy-five-incher. With 4K.” She groans. “Ultra HD.”
I let my palm hover just over her flesh. Whitney lets her head drop forward enough to lock her eyes on mine.
“I don’t know anything about what you just said, but I love you because, Cooper. That includes the big screen and the video games.”
I grin, cup her flesh, and she rewards my touch with an impatient twist of her hips. Maybe now’s the time to push my luck just a tiny bit more.
“Marry me.”
“No.” Her voice is light and breathy, but her tone is decisive.
Huh. I’ll have to keep working on that one. No worries; I have plenty of time. Whitney knows exactly what she’s getting into with me and I have every day of forever to work on convincing her—and all those nights to go along with them.
If it takes a hundred years, no matter. I’ll keep asking. Keep proving myself to her and to what we are together.
Until I’ve given her every reason to say yes.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, thank you to Elana Cohen for offering a second (and third) opportunity for me to move forward as a published author. I’m tremendously grateful for your support of the stories I want to tell—and the way I want to tell them.
Another big thank-you to my agent Victoria Lowes, for your dedication and persistence. Thank you for doing what you do with endless grace.
Thank you to Lori M. for beta reading First Step Forward and providing sharp, insightful feedback that was essential in making this book stronger. To Carly Bornstein of CB Editing, thank you for providing a manuscript review that was both comprehensive and workable—your notes helped better define these characters and their story.
To the entire Pocket Books team, thank you for making these books sparkle and shine, from beginning to end. A special thank-you to Marla Daniels for stepping in to steer the ship on this one for a bit.
Thank you to every reader who picked up the True titles and by doing so, helped make this new series a reality—I hope you come to love the Grand Valley stories. Your continued support is what makes all of this possible.
And to Warren … thank you for making it easy to write about good guys with great hearts—who say what they mean, mean what they say, and stay true to what matters most.
Get lost in Liora Blake’s steamy, sexy True series!
And see how it all began with Kate and Trevor’s story in this first book in the True series!
True North
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The past divides them … but the present might just bring them together.
True Devotion
*
The final sizzling installment in the True series!
True Divide
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ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!
LIORA BLAKE is a contemporary romance author living in Colorado. She writes because it’s what she’s always wanted to do, she writes novels because she likes to tell the whole story, and she writes romance because a happily-ever-after is the best kind of story to tell. Visit her online at www.liorablake.com.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: authors.simonandschuster.com/LioraBlake
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ALSO BY LIORA BLAKE
The True Series
True North
True Devotion
True Divide
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Liora Blake
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First Pocket Books paperback edition December 2016
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Interior design by Bryden Spevak
Cover design by Janet Perr
Cover image © graychelyn/Twenty20; © mesplin/Twenty20
ISBN 978-1-5011-5511-6
ISBN 978-1-5011-5512-3 (ebook)
