I grin as I lean into him, bringing my arms around his waist, holding him tight to me. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been yours since the moment I met you.”
His mouth turns up at both sides, fully grinning at me as he nods. “I’ve been yours too.”
“This is crazy,” I say, and I want to believe that it is, but it seems so right. “How does this happen so fast between two people?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t change a thing about us.”
“Me neither. It’s only been two weeks, but it feels so right, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s been the best two weeks of my life. I am finally alive being with you, and I didn’t think that could happen off the ice.”
Looking deep in his eyes, I fight off the tears and then very softly, I admit, “I never thought love was made for me.” Moving my nose along his, I say, “But you changed my mind.”
“You were made to be loved by me, and no one else can ever take that away,” he says and then takes my mouth with his in a deep, toe-curling kiss. I’m not sure what he means with that statement. Is he saying he loves me? Does he love me? Surely he does! Who does something this amazing for someone? Well, someone who wants sex really bad would, but he isn’t pushing for that. He’s holding me, treasuring my lips as he kisses me slowly, so he has to love me. Right?
Pulling back, he grins against my lips before kissing me once more and then pulling completely away. Reaching down, he grabs the bouquet of roses and hands them to me. “So what do you think of everything?”
I smile as I lace my fingers with his, needing to touch him. “It’s amazing, Jude, thank you.”
“Anything for you,” he answers. He then smiles back at me, bringing my hand up to kiss the back of it before looking up. I do the same to see Jayden leaning across the railing, a phone in his hand. “Smile.”
He brings me up under his arm, close to his chest, and I smile up at Jayden as he takes the pictures of us. I can’t wait to send these to Reese; she’ll flip when she sees them. Turning me in his arms, he dusts my jaw with kisses before I say, “Wow, you had this all planned out, huh?”
He smiles up at me and says, “I wanted to make sure you never forget this moment.”
“How could I? This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” I admit. “I kinda feel like I’m dreaming.”
He shakes his head, cupping my face in his hand before dropping his mouth to mine. He doesn’t kiss me though, instead he smiles, his lips lightly touching mine and then he says, “I know what you mean.”
Then he kisses me, pressing our bodies together and smashing the roses between us, but I can’t seem to muster up any energy to care. I’m so engrossed in him. I’m too much his to care about anything but kissing him with all the love and desire in my heart. As his mouth moves with mine, I want to ask if he loves me, but then I feel so selfish and wrong for hoping he does. In a way, I’m giving him a false claim of who I am. I mean, I’m not saying that burlesque is who I am, because I’m more than that, but it is a big part of me. If this works out with the investors, then it will be my career, and I’m not sure how he will feel about that.
He pulls back slowly, looking into my eyes, and I know it’s time. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper and he smiles, his finger moving along my jaw to my lips.
“What’s that, baby?”
I get lost in his eyes as my heart pounds so loud I can hear it in my ears. I love the way he’s looking at me. As if I’m it. I’m his, and I know in my heart that’s true. He may have not said it, but his actions mean way more to me than words. This couldn’t have been a quick setup. It takes time to line the pucks up perfectly, and he got me flowers and cleaned up, looking so damn hot it’s mind-blowing. This took time. Time he could have used on anyone or anything else, but instead he used it on me. I mean something to him, and I know that I can’t fuck that up for both of us.
“You make me so happy,” I say and I close my eyes, leaning into him.
His arms come around me, holding me tightly as he whispers, “I feel the same way, baby.”
If he’s happy with me, he won’t leave me, right? He’d stay; he would accept the job I love to do. But for some reason, I don’t believe that. I think he’ll run the other way, and I can’t risk that. I can’t. Melting against him, tears sting my eyes as we slowly sway back and forth to the music. Dusting kisses up my jaw and cheek, he pulls back, looking deep in my eyes as he says, “Wanna get out of here?”
I give him a cheeky grin. “For what?”
Eyeing me, he smiles as he says, “Anything you want.”
“So, just hypothetically speaking, if I wanted to go back to your house and play chess, we could do that?”
He nods, his face straight as he says, “Hypothetically, we could do that.”
“Or? I feel an or there,” I say, a grin pulling at my lips.
“Or…” he says, dragging out the word. “I can take you back to my house and bend you and fuck you in every way possible,” he says, stealing my breath and making it hard to breathe. “But that’s hypothetical. It’s whatever you want.”
Leaning into him, I move my hands up his hard chest and around his neck, looking deep in his eyes. “I think I like the way you think. Being bent in every way possible is way more fun than chess.”
“True,” he agrees. “And way more challenging.”