Fourth Down (Portland Pioneers 1)

When she has looked over every inch of the city, I expect her to tell me she’s ready to go, but she doesn’t. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs. “You’re right. I feel at peace up here. It’s like the view washes away your worries.”

“During the summer, it’s crazy, though. Lots of tourists and summer camps. The zoo and science center aren’t far from here either.”

“I want to go to the zoo. I hear it has one of the best elephant exhibits.”

“It does. Roxy loves the elephants. They have a program where you can spend the night in the zoo, like a giant slumber party. I did it with Reggie a year ago and stayed awake all night long. I don’t care that the animals are locked up. I feared for our lives that night.”

“But you’d do it all over again for Roxy?”

“Without a doubt. Being their dad is the best part of my life.”

“I feel like I should ask you about your ex, but then I feel like it’s none of my business. I’m torn.”

I shift slightly, so I’m in front of Autumn, and she’s leaning against the railing. “There’s time,” I say. “Or at least I’m hoping there’s time. I’m having an amazing time with you, Autumn. I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that as well, Julius.”

I haven’t kissed another woman since college, and right now, I want nothing more than to press my lips against Autumn’s. I lick my lips while I psyche myself up for what I’m about to do. My body leans closer, and my eyes never leave hers.

“Autumn,” I say her name softly. A wave of excitement, longing, and desire passes over me. The tension between us is thick. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and her chest heaves as she inhales. “I’m sorry for being a complete ass when we first met. Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Uh-huh,” she says as she nods slowly.

My mouth twitches in anticipation. I’m about to kiss the woman who has muddled my thoughts since the moment I met her. She’s haunted my dreams, kept me awake at night and showed me what it feels like to lust after someone after the heartache I’ve felt.

My hand gently cups her cheek. Autumn closes her eyes and tilts her head into my palm, and pushes her lips against my skin. Electricity zings through my body, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand at attention.

“I can’t wait,” she says, launching herself into my arms and pressing her lips to mine. I stumble back a step or two and wrap my arms around her waist. Autumn knows what she wants, and when she opens her mouth, I give her any and everything I can in this moment. I walk us to the railing, needing it for support. One hand moves to her hair while the other pulls her tighter against me. Her lips and mouth are demanding, greedy, and I return her passion with reckless abandon. Why did I wait so long to talk to her? To apologize to her?

I blaze a trail of languishing kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She pulls at my shirt, yanking it from my pants. My mouth drops open when her hands caress my heated flesh, and her fingers dig into my skin. I step back and reach for the back of my collar, the intent of taking my shirt off when I realize where we are.

“We have to stop,” I tell her reluctantly. “But please don’t think I don’t want to do any of this with you because I do.” I glance down at my pants to prove my point.

“I got carried away.”

“Sweetie, you can get carried away anytime you want.” I cup her cheek again and run my thumb over her cheekbone. “Believe me, I want . . .” I let my words linger in the air before I kiss her again. This time, it’s soft yet filled with passion. She tastes like heaven. When we part, I kiss her nose and then take her hand in mine.

“Where are we going?”

“Dinner.”

“It’s not time.”

I laugh. “It will be by the time we get back into town and fight traffic.”

Seventeen

Autumn

Weeks ago, if someone asked me what I thought of Julius Cunningham, I would’ve told them he is nothing but a bully with a bad attitude and a chip on his shoulder. If someone asked me last week after I saw him with his daughter, my answer would be something like he’s softening up or he’s not so rough around the edges like I had thought. Ask me now, and I’d fumble for words because I’m drunk. Drunk off his lips and the way he cupped my cheek before he kissed me. Smitten by his kindness and how he knew I needed to see the city from this vantage point, and that he made sure we had the privacy to do it alone. I look over at him now, driving my car, and find it hard to believe he hasn’t been in that seat for longer than a few hours. He fits perfectly. It’s like we’re on a date for the millionth time and not some paid-for excursion. Everything feels natural and not forced like I expected it to be.