Page 107 of Scoring Eden

He scootches closer to me and lays his hand possessively across my thigh. “I am now.”

I stare down at his hand, my lungs burning from holding my breath. I don’t know why I’m doing it, just that his presence, his touch, makes it hard to think about anything but him. And I know we need to talk about what happened between us last night, and we definitely need to discuss Sebastian’s new threats, but selfishly, I need this moment of peace before we unravel it all again.

I let my hand drift over his then curl my fingers around it.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

I toss his own words back at him. “I am now.”

He smiles and looks out over the garden, his long legs taking over swinging us gently back and forth. “My parents used to have a porch swing,” he says, and my breath stalls in my lungs. “It wasn’t as fancy as this one. It was just something my dad threw together with some old planks of wood and chains, but my mom would sit on it every night with a blanket and read a book or something. I used to watch her from my bedroom window when she thought I was asleep.”

I don’t dare speak, too afraid to break whatever magic is making him open up to me like this.

“They had flowers just like this too.” He gazes at the line of dahlias, foxgloves, and Pacific bleeding hearts that border this little hidden sanctuary. “Mom’s favorite was lavender. It’s a pain in the ass to grow here because the continuous rain would lead to root rot, but when she managed it, she’d break off the heads and rub them between her hands. I miss how she always used to smell of it. I miss…” his voice breaks, “her. I miss both of them.”

The tug of sadness in his voice has me crawling into his lap and straddling his waist. My hands find home on each side of his head, my thumbs stroking the tops of his reddened cheekbones.

“Brynn was only six when we lost them,” he says. “I don’t know how much she remembers of them because I’ve spent the last twenty years refusing to talk about that time in my life, but I sometimes feel like I can remember everything. That I could recount every day of my first ten years, minute by minute, and I don’t know if that’s a blessing or if it makes it all so much harder.”

My heart shatters at the sight of his glistening eyes, and I’m not quick enough to swipe away the tears that seep in tiny rivulets down his face.

“Is it bad that I wish I didn’t remember them?”

The pain in his voice pierces me like a dagger.

“No.” I tilt his head back to look him in the eye, scraping my nails through the hair at the back of his neck. “I think you just want relief from the pain.”

“How do I get that?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I trace the tight lines between his brows with my nail, soothing them away. “Keep talking about them.”

His hands wind around my back, stroking up and down before settling on my waist. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to right now, but maybe—”

He cuts me off. “I want to do something else right now, though.”

“What do you—”

He seizes up toward me, gripping the back of my head and searing his lips to mine. It’s embarrassing how quickly I melt into him, how loudly I hum from the first taste of his tongue, and how unmissably I begin to tremble.

“I know,” he whispers into my mouth. “Me too.”

“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, his breathing as ragged as mine. “I didn’t kiss you for any other reason than because I wanted to. No, because I had to.” Dropping his hands to my hips, he uses them to grind me over the erection straining against his zipper. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since last night. Hell, I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since the moment I saw you in the dental office with ink all over your face. Do you have any idea how torturous it is to be around you when all I can think about is how many times I can make you come before I fuck you?”

A moan sneaks through my lips as he drags me harder against him, my clit drawing perfect lines along his covered dick. Up. Down. Up. Down. I’m almost there already from his words alone.

“Shit, Eden.” His head falls against the back of the swing, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown. “You think I’m the one trying to be a distraction when I’ve spent every game this season trying to force myself to keep an eye on the ball instead of you?”

He kisses me again. It’s messy and sweet with an edge of desperation that sends my mind spinning. How we could go from talking about his dead parents a few minutes ago to clawing at each other’s clothes is beyond me, and though he says this isn’t a distraction, I don’t mind being one for him right now.

He’s given me so much more in the past twenty-four hours alone than I have for him in all the months we’ve known each other. And it’s only served to make me fall deeper in love with him—so deep I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find my way out.

“I can’t control myself with you, Eden. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard, but after last night, I don’t think I’ve got the strength to fight it anymore.”

Hope blooms like cherry blossoms in my chest. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?