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“I’m awake,” he says. He lifts his head from the pillows and opens his arms. “Hey, pretty girl.”
“Hi.” I smile at him. “What are you doing? It’s late.”
“Reading a book from your stack and taking notes.”
I laugh and walk over to him, lying next to him so our chests press together. “How was your night? I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms around me. “Our night was good. We had burgers for dinner. June wanted ice cream even though it’s January, so we looked like two fools running down the street to the grocery store.”
“What flavor did you get?”
“Asking the important questions. Chocolate chip. Your favorite. There’s extra in the freezer.” He gestures to the liquor cabinet with a lazy wave of his hand. “Do you want a drink? We haven’t made much of a dent in that bottle of tequila.”
“No.” I sigh and rub my hand across his pectoral muscles. “I had a few glasses of wine at dinner, and I’m just at that point where everything feels nice and lovely.”
“I bet you are. Your face is pink.” Dallas touches the curve of my cheek with his thumb, and the skin-on-skin contact warms me instantly. “How are Maggie and Lacey?”
“Good.” I pause and bury my face in his bare chest. “They might know about us, but Shawn definitely doesn’t.”
“You told them?”
“Only after they noticed the hickey on my neck. Thanks for that, by the way.”
Dallas chuckles and pulls me closer. “How do you feel about them knowing?”
“Good. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, right? And they gave me some good advice, so I don’t regret telling them one bit.”
“Advice?” I feel him frown against my forehead. “Do we need to talk about anything?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I just pointed out how we’re kind of at different stages in life, and I didn’t know if that’s something to be concerned about.” I close my eyes and sigh. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and think you can do better than me. I know I don’t have a degree. I know I’m not some famous model or athlete or clay bowl maker.”
“Can you name a famous clay bowl maker?” he asks.
“No, but that’s not the point. You’re older. Your life has already been decided for you—you’re a dad. First and foremost, and no matter what else you do after football, you’ll always bethatbefore anything else. And I love that about you, Dallas, because you’re the best dad in the world. But I don’t want you to think I’m this wild, unstable girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing, when you so clearly do.”
“Maven.” He nudges my shoulder and eases me on my back. He sits up and looks down at me. “I knew exactly who you were when I kissed you the first time, and the last words I’d ever use to define you are unstable and wild. Are you more spontaneous than me? Without a fucking doubt. Do you have less filter than some people? At times, but you also know when to reign it in and take a breath.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I like you so much, Dallas. And June is my world, too. I never want to lose you both.”
“Do you know what I think about when I wake up?” he asks, and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I think about how happy you make me. How wonderful you are with my daughter and how you love her like she’s yours. I think about your kindness and patience. Your selflessness and your sense of humor. I think about how forever with you doesn’t sound long enough. I wonder how in the world today is going to be better than yesterday, because yesterday was the best day of my life. And it always is. You are my greatest joy, and there’s not a single thing I’d change about you. You are perfect. You are perfect for me. You are…” he dips his chin and takes my hand in his. “You are the sun and you’re the stars, and even on the worst days, when we’re mad at each other or tired or frustrated, it’s still going to be a good day, because you’ll be by my side.”
I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
It thrums in my heart. It sparks behind my eyes. It runs through my veins, a loud, boisterous thing that won’t quiet down.
I should tell him. I really should. But I kiss him first. I bring his mouth to mine and tell him behind the press of our lips. The glide of my hand from his shoulders to his stomach. The way my legs wrap around his middle and my hips lift up, conveying what I want to do with him.
He tastes like forever. Like every dream I’ve ever had and every wish I’ve made on a shooting star.
Dallas lifts me from the couch and walks us to our room. He never stops touching me—not even to open the door. His palms roam down my body. They tangle in my hair then touch my breasts. They rub my back, and when he sets me down on my feet, I feel a little drunk and dizzy.
“I think about this, too,” he says hoarsely. “Your body. How you really feel like you were made for me. How badly I want you—all the time.”
“So have me,” I say, and I pull my dress over my head. He inhales sharply, and his eyes turn dark. “In whatever way you want.” I unclasp my bra and let my breasts spill free. “Because I’m yours.” I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my underwear and shimmy them down my legs. When I start to take off my stockings, his fingers curl around my wrist.
“No.” He shakes his head and his Adam’s apple bobs. His eyes move down my body, and he adjusts the front of his sweatpants. “Leave those on. Please.”
