Page 103
My eyes fluttered shut. “Yes,” I breathed.
A chuckle rumbled from Lane’s chest. “Long day?”
“You have no idea.”
His thumb continued its slow path along the sole of my foot, working out knots I hadn’t even realized were there. Across the room, Jace lowered his game to peer over the top of it.
“Are we really doing foot massages during movie night?”
“Mind your business,” I said without opening my eyes.
“I'm trying, but your boyfriend is out here giving spa treatments.”
The word boyfriend sent a warm flutter through my stomach. Lane’s hand paused for half a second before continuing.
I opened one eye. “Go back to your game.”
“This is better than my game,” Jace quipped.
Lane laughed under his breath, and eventually Jace returned his attention to the tiny screen, muttering something about being surrounded by weird people.
The movie finally started, but I barely paid attention. Lane’s hand rested lightly against my ankle now, brushing quiet patterns against my skin while he watched the screen. The gesture was simple, absent-minded even, yet more intimate than any grand romantic moment.
Partway through the movie I scooted closer until my shoulder rested against his side. Lane glanced down, smiled, and wrapped an arm around me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
His smile was soft as turned back toward the movie, his arm never leaving me. I did the same, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. Jace stood, stretched, and said good night as he trudged up the stairs half asleep.
Lane’s phone pinged. Without reading it, he set the phone on the coffee table and turned back to the movie. His thumb idly traced circles across my shoulder. Those simple movements were enough to jump-start my heart.
When the movie ended, Lane clicked off the TV. We sat together in the darkness for several minutes before I finally worked up the courage to speak.
“Does this feel awkward to you?” I asked. “Well, maybe awkward isn’t the right word. It's more like . . . we know things about each other that nobody else knows, but there are simple things I don’t know the answer to.”
Lane turned toward me. I lifted my head from where it had been resting against his chest. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“What do you want to know?” he asked. I tilted my head because there were thousands of things I’d wondered about over the years.
“Why do you drive that old truck when you can drive anything you want?”
“First of all, I hope Janet didn’t hear you,” he whisper-shouted, as if his truck could somehow overhear us talking about her. “And secondly . . .” He paused, searching my face like he was deciding whether to say it aloud.
“A beautiful girl let me have her first kiss in that truck.” I ducked my head, smiling as I remembered that exact moment in vivid detail.
“She did?” I asked, biting my bottom lip as I looked back up at him.
“Sure did. She drove me wild.” The tip of his tongue brushed his lower lip.
“How’d she do that?” I asked, noticing his gaze flick down to my mouth.
“She had these eyes the color of robin’s eggs, and hair that looked like red flames. Smart as all get out with science . . . and her legs. Let me tell you about those legs—”
His finger slid from my knee to my thigh, and whatever he’d been about to say disappeared. I clapped a hand over his mouth, but I hadn’t accounted for the feel of his lips against my palm. Still watching me, he pressed a kiss there. I dropped my hand, suddenly unsure what I’d been trying to accomplish.
He cradled my hand in both of his, then lifted one finger and kissed the tip. Then the next. And the next. Slowly. Deliberately. Every touch carried a quiet reverence that stole the air from my lungs. How had I ever doubted that this man loved me? His phone pinged again, interrupting the moment. Lane flicked an annoyed look at it but continued to ignore it.
