AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t know what I am.
I just kissed Parker Manning.
Tennis star. Wild child. The first guy I ever loved.
I never, ever imagined that we’d do thisagain. And it was good. So good, I still feel a buzz radiating through my body, straight down into my toes.
“Yeah, I think I am,” I murmur. I’m still sort of breathless. My lips are wet, and I feel light headed.
“Good.” He leans in and kisses me again.
Like this is our new normal.
And I want it to be our new normal. I reach up and fit my fingertips over the neckline of his t-shirt. Kissing him like this, I’m way more than good.
No words can describe the tingling, warm feeling that races through me, each time his lips part against mine.
With his mouth on mine, like it is right now, my world is right.
He tastes good. Like birch soda and a breath mint. A little sweet, like maple syrup. And his kiss is hungry, like he’s nowhere near done kissing me.
When we part again, he tugs the zipper of fleece until it’s zipped to my chin. “You cold?” he asks, still so close to me that my pulse is racing and my core has turned to fire.
I’m so far from cold, it’s not funny. “Really, I’m good.”
“You sure? I’ll get some heat going in a sec. Tired?”
“Not really.”
“Hungry?”
I reach out and place my index finger on his bottom lip. That soft, tender spot where his lip gives way to his perfect chin. “You’re not my babysitter, you know.”
He takes my finger from his lip and kisses the tip. “I know, baby. Just making sure you’re okay.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, but do you?” His brown eyes search mine, and he brushes his thumb across my cheek bone. “You’re thin, Gem. You gotta eat. And you get up too early. You need sleep, too.”
“I know…”
“I learned when I was training with some really good coaches, those first years I played the big tournaments. You gotta take rest days. They’re as important, or more, than the days you go all out and push really hard. I know it’s tempting to go hard all the time, but, believe me. It doesn’t pay off.”
When you get advice from a guy with two Olympic medals, you take it.
Even if he doesn’t know where those medals are.
Even if he has messy, wild hair, and so many tattoos, they’re hard to count. Even when he broke your heart, ten years ago.
“Thanks. I guess—I guess some food would be good.” It’s been hours since I consumed that plate of french fries.
“Great. I have buddies over at Moe’s who will hook us up. I know we already had pizza, that night you got in. You up for a second go at it, or is that counter to some Gemma Rule I don’t know of?”
“Usually, yes. Pizza twice in one week is a no-no. But I’m on vacation. Pizza sounds great. And one of those Ceasars you talked about.”
He squeezes my knee. “I’ll text to let ’em know we’re on our way. Home, food, and bed for you. I know you must be tired.” He kisses me gently and then closes the truck door.
I watch his dark silhouette walk around the hood of the massive truck, and realize that I’m glad he’s driving us home. I feel safe.
