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She kisses my chest, and her fingers circle along my abs. And we allow ourselves to live in this bubble we’ve created for ourselves a little longer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Briar
Emmett parks his truck far away from the field.
“So, can I cheer for you?” I cringe because it’s a dumb question, but I don’t want anyone to see through us.
“Hell yes.” He grabs my hand and tugs me to his side in the cab. “I can’t wait until I can put the Emmett’s girl shirt on you and kiss you before a game.”
My heart warms with a soft, comforting glow. I want that too.
“I know I have to tell Gillian,” I say, but what we have is so nice without anyone knowing.
This week, we both came home at the end of the day, showered, and fell into bed with one another. Emmett’s taken me in the kitchen while I was making dinner, on the couch while I watched my favorite show, and in the middle of the night. His house has turned into a love nest, our love nest, and I don’t want to bring in anyone who’s going to point their finger and tell us it will never work. I love Gillian, but she’d be the first one to do that.
“Yeah, you do,” he says.
Emmett hasn’t pushed me to tell people, but I can feel his impatience growing. It makes me happy that he wants to tell everyone we’re a couple.
“I want it too, so you know. I want to go to those bleachers and give you a good luck kiss. Maybe have you squeeze my ass.”
He smiles.
“And I want to jump and cheer when you score, letting all those women know you’re mine.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and runs his hand down my hair. “I know you do.”
I kiss the hollow of his neck. “Thanks for being understanding.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I better get you out of here before anyone comes along.”
I put my hand on his cheek, turning his head to face me and crush my lips to his. I slide my tongue into his mouth, and he grabs my waist, tugging me onto his lap. Our kiss grows in intensity.
Before we pass the point of no return, I lean back. “Good luck tonight.”
His hands run down my sides, and he squeezes my ass with both hands. “Try not to ogle me too hard.”
“That’s a hard ask.” I’ve been ogling him since I came to my first game last year when I visited. It’s nice knowing I’m going to go home with him this time.
He pats my ass. “Time to go.”
I slide off his lap and climb out of the truck from the passenger side. He gets out and shuts his door, rounding the back of his cab to grab his bag and looking to make sure no one saw us. His hand moves to grab my hand, but I slide it away, clasping my hands in front of me. He groans and dips his head back toward the sky but doesn’t say anything.
We walk up to the bleachers, Emmett’s finger grazing my ass before anyone notices, and he heads to the dugout.
“Hey, you,” Gillian says, patting the spot next to her on the bleachers. “I saved you a spot.”
I climb the bleacher, seeing her shirt that says, Ben’s girl. Sadie is sporting her Jude’s girl shirt stretched out over her swollen belly, and I silently bemoan not being able to wear a shirt for Emmett.
“Briar!” Wren rushes out of the dugout.
“Wren!” Bennett shouts after her. “You’re the mascot.”
Wren waves him off. “I don’t wanna be anymore.”
Bennett rolls his eyes, and all the women in the stands laugh.
