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She walked closer, setting her hands on my chest. Immediately, I wanted to kiss her. I always wanted to kiss her, whether she was touching me or not, but the moment she made contact, some internal switch flipped on in my head, and I couldn’t function until I tasted her lips. When I ducked down to do just that, she pressed her fingers over my mouth to stop me.
“Did you look in the pantry before having your little temper tantrum?”
“No,” I said, the sound muffled behind her fingers.
Her lips hooked up in a smug fucking grin that meant only one thing.
I yanked her hand away from my mouth and ducked down to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Fine. Rub it in my face later.” I deepened the kiss, slowly sucking on her bottom lip while my hand sneaked around to slide over her backside. “Much later.”
She laughed against my lips, humming contentedly when my tongue teased hers.
Her kisses were my favorite thing in the entire world. The fact that I’d gone thirty years without knowing what they felt like was a bloody tragedy.
Zoe pulled away, swatting at my stomach when I tried to tug her back with my hand fisted tight in her shirt. “Look at the tea in the pantry. She’ll have plenty of options. Now keep your hands to yourself, because we have to leave to pick up your mom in, like, ten minutes, and Mira’s hair is still a disaster.”
I eyed the explosion of curls falling around her shoulders. “Just Mira’s?”
She narrowed her gaze, and I held my hands up while I backed away.
“Whose fault is that?” she asked dangerously.
“Yours, really. You walked through the room wearing that shirt, and you bloody well know I can’t handle myself.”
Even as she let out a beleaguered sigh, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Luckily for me, Mira had been napping, because even after two months—the greatest two months of my entire life—I couldn’t see Zoe in the Denver sweatshirt that bore my name without turning into a raving, greedy beast.
Her hair had been in a neat braid, but I’d followed her straight into the kitchen and pressed her against the fridge for a fierce, brain-meltingkiss as I shoved my hands up underneath that sweatshirt. At her pleading, I turned her around for a frantic ravaging against the kitchen island, where I gripped her hips and had to clench my teeth to keep from shouting when she arched her back. She almost had me blacking out because it felt so bloody good.
My girl liked it when I couldn’t get enough of her, as it turned out.
And that suited me just fine.
Everything about our life suited me, really. We’d slid into the regular season with ease, Zoe and Mira becoming fixtures at the home games, usually joining Rochelle in her box. But tomorrow, with my mum, they’d be sitting in the stands.
I loved having Zoe there, watching me do my job. I loved having her wait for me afterward, and I loved scooping Mira into my arms as we left the stadium together. I loved crawling into bed with Zoe, even if my body was too beat up to do anything but hold her.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to play forever, but not playing anymore wasn’t sounding so bad either.
Zoe had taken to adding some of her artwork to the house and swapping out furniture for things that suited our taste. A month after our first date, she’d finally decided to place her home on the market. It made sense, and thankfully, the new neighbors were a kind, young family with a son just about Mira’s age.
Even though we’d kept all the family pictures up, Chris and Amie’s home felt like ours. And there was something very right about that.
Zoe was studying me as she nimbly fixed her braid, tying the end with a black band and a tiny smile on her face.
“What?” I asked, tugging her closer. Her eyes fluttered shut when I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Are you nervous to have your mom here?” She twined her arms around my waist and looked up into my face.
I shook my head. “Nothing to be nervous about. She’ll probably like you better than she likes me.”
Zoe laughed.
“And Mira,” I drawled. “She’s already spoiling her to bits, isn’t she?”
“A little. The dollhouse with the family of ducks was a big hit, though.”
I hummed.
Zoe’s hands fisted around the material of my shirt. “Did you tell her about the letter we found?”
