Fading Out (Living Heartwood 3)

The crash of the ocean cocoons us, the sun hidden beneath gray clouds, casting the beach in sharp contrasting, winter tones. As the wind sends my hair across my face, I nod to the outstretched ball in our linked hands. “I thought you were going to teach me how to throw a ball,” I tease.

I feel Ryder’s diverted attention against my backside; the intensity between us sparking and igniting our desire whenever we’re close. He sighs heavily and shifts his focus to the football.

“Why are we out here in the freezing elements again? I mean, instead of somewhere warm and soft where I can take you five different ways before we’re dragged out tonight.” He mock sighs.

“You promised to teach me your legendary pass skills,” I say, shoring up my bravado. I turn to liquid every time he even hints to sexy times, and I really did want to get to know this side of him better before I lose all coherency to his hotness.

With a groan that sends a ripple of want through me, he curls his fingers around mine, repositioning my grip on the ball, and cocks our arms back. “Anything that puts this fine ass up against me, you won’t hear me complain.” Then he instructs me when to release as he launches the ball.

I watch it spiral into the air, sailing long and far (though nothing compared to what I witness when he’s out on the field), before it lands and tumbles down the beach. But as impressed as I am, I was already over the lesson, my need quickening, when he gripped my hip and clutched me to him as he sent it sailing.

God, but I could tackle him right here and just tear at those annoying layers of clothes. Turning in his arms, I link my arms around his neck. “That is so hot,” I say, and totally mean it.

One eyebrow cocked, he pulls me closer, his crooked smile stealing my breath. “I thought you were above all that groupie shit.”

“I’m the groupie,” I stress. “I’m allowed to fangirl all over you if I want.”

His big hands grab my ass as he bends at the knees and dips his lips to my neck. “Damn…” His deep voice rumbles against my skin, sending a quake through my body. “Keep talking like that, and I won’t have a choice but to make every touchdown pass in record time.”

It’s playful banter, I know—but there’s a current of truth streaming beneath his teasing admission. Pulling back enough to look into his eyes, I say, “Do you really want to give it up?”

His irises are arctic blue against the gray backdrop of the dreary beach. His eyes squint, but not in their cute way; in a way I know he’s considering my question seriously. “If it came down to a choice, I would.”

I let the vagueness of that statement go, and instead say, “Just for you. Nothing or no one else. What do you want, Ryder?”

His grip on me tightens, and he releases a low groan on an exhale. “I want to play. I do. Badly. But it’s not that simple. I want the freedom to play the game for myself without the background noise.” He gives his head a quick shake. “Some days it’s just too complicated. Am I allowed not to know the right answer to that?”

I open my mouth, but halt. Think a second longer before I respond. Then, holding his disarming gaze, I say, “Yes. But I think it’s something you should figure out before you go all the way to the pros. Don’t you?”

He nods simply. “You think I’m taking it for granted.”

My head jerks back. “What? No! Nothing like that.” I lower my arms to wrap them around his waist, hooking my thumbs through his belt loops. “I just…I want you to be sure. To know exactly why you’re playing, and for it to ultimately be for you—whatever you decide.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he says, “I know one thing I want for sure.” His whispered words send heat rippling across my lips. His sentiment goes right to my heart, making it stutter.

“Well, yeah. That’s an easy one when you’re practically grinding against me.” I play off the intensity I hear in his voice. But the damage is done; I want him to want me. And to never stop.

“You have a sassy mouth, you know that?” He wriggles my hips, making my body do exactly what I just accused.

“What are you going to do about it?” I dare.

He lifts his head and stares out over the ocean. “I think you need to cool off before you drive me insane. I see another dip in the ocean taking place really soon.”

“Oh…you wouldn’t—” I squeal as he dips down and scoops me into his arms. “Ryder! I swear… If you throw me in that freezing water…”

“Oh, please, threaten me, baby. With all your dirty words.” He carries me in his arms across the beach, and I helplessly wrap my arms around his neck. Clinging to him. If I go in, he’s coming with me.

But then another, better idea hits me, and I wriggle until I’ve twisted myself around him, and he has no choice but to hold me as I lock my legs around his waist. I seal his mouth with mine, and he stops walking. Soon, I feel the sand beneath me as he lowers us to the ground. My hands go to his hair, reveling in the softness of his thick layers. His strong, hard body pins mine to the earth in a dominant move to gain back control, but I’m more than ready to relinquish it to him.

He kisses a blazing trail along my jaw. “You fight dirty,” he says against my skin.

I laugh. “When your boyfriend is a stubborn jock, you kind of have no choice.”

I realize my blunder before his gaze snaps to mine. His eyes are hard on me, his mouth set in a firm line. “You making it official.” It’s more than a question. His determined statement is full of hope that shreds my defenses.

I run my hand through his hair, pushing his dark bangs away from his eyes. Swallow the lump threatening to choke me. “It’s just a word, Ryder. A silly label.” His eyes flash, heated. “We’re so much more—”

“Don’t,” he says, then turns his head to kiss my wrist before he pushes back onto his knees. Staring down at me, he sighs, his broad chest deflating, making me ache all over. “Either you want us as badly as I do, or you don’t, Ari. But don’t try to dismiss it so casually, to downplay it. I’m not really a dumb jock, remember?”