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“What?” I ask breathlessly.
“Come with me to my mom’s.”
He runs his thumb the length of mine, sending a wave of heat that stems from the simple touch to the place between my thighs, before his eyes finally fix on mine.
“Come with me. For Thanksgiving. My mom hosts a small dinner every year.”
My throat is dry. Tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. He's drunk. Wait, no. I'm drunk. He wasn't drinking.
“I...I mean, I can't…” I stutter, looking through the windshield up at the apartment complex, thinking of my brother. “I can't leave Colin on Thanksgi—”
“No,” he interrupts quickly. “My God, I know.” He smiles a big toothy grin, and a sexy little chuckle leaves his throat. “I meant both of you. I want you both there for Thanksgiving this year.”
Irregular beats flutter through my chest. My stomach picks up off the floor and twists into an uncomfortable knot. It's the feeling you get when you tip over that steep hill on a rollercoaster ride. Nauseous while simultaneously falling hard. When he includes Colin, I feel that weightlessness.
“Really?”
He licks his lips and leans his temple against the headrest again, his eyes gazing directly into mine.
“Yes, really. It would mean a lot to me...to introduce you both.” He pauses, looking at our hands before peering back at me again. “To her.”
This is big. It's big for any man to have a woman meet his mother, even if she's only meeting me as his therapist. At least, that's what I'm assuming. But he runs through my assumptions as he continues.
“I want her to meet the woman that's got me all fucked up. The one training me to get back on that field in record time to slash records and fight for the woman who fought for me. The one that drives me crazy with her wit and smart-ass comebacks. The one that's got me feeling jealous and unhinged, breaking glasses and hating everyone who occupies her mind.” He shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief, then swallows. “The one that's selfless and protective.” His hand squeezes mine. “The one that loves hard.” He sighs, and it's shaky as those eyes look up, piercing through me. “The one that reminds me ofher.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. This is heavy. So heavy I'm forced to use humor as a defense mechanism for my unguarded heart that is just waiting to be ripped to shreds by the man who's unknowingly holding it.
“Well, she sounds dope as hell,” I joke.
He reaches across the console, grabbing the side of my neck, startling me enough to cause me to suck in a breath.
“Don't do that,” he says huskily to my widened eyes. “Don't use humor right now. I'm being serious.”
I attempt to inhale some oxygen while being flooded by him, sensing his seriousness. It surprises me, to be honest, why this is such a big deal for him. Why he wants this. With me.
“Okay,” I whisper breathlessly. “If you're sure.”
I give him the opportunity to back out of this. Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment invite, and he hasn't thought through what this means.
He nods, then pulls me closer, his fingers sliding into the hair at the back of my head, gripping me while the sound of creaking leather warms me as he leans over the console, closing in.
I wait, staring into his eyes that are closer than close, wondering if he's going to kiss me. His eyes travel down my face, landing on my lips that are inching dangerously close to his. His lips part and I feel his soft breath meet mine.
“Tell me you'll be there,” he whispers against my lips.
I nod this time. No sarcasm or wit could save me now.
“I'll be there.”
He stills, almost like he’s absorbing my answer, before running his lips gently along mine.
“Tell me I can kiss you.”
The way he always asks for my consent by somehow demanding it makes me stir with this chaotic need I've stored away my entire life. Until him.
“Kiss me, Lake,” I whisper against his lips seconds before they seal to mine.
A satisfied groan leaves his throat as my hands slide up his smooth neck. My lips enclose around his bottom lip, gently sucking it. The moment becomes heated as the need to get closer overtakes me.
