Page 136 of Major Love

Because I know the three words that are on the tip of his tongue.

But I need to finalise my move from Nashville before we finally say them.

“Let me,” he rumbles. “I’ve been wanting to say those three words to you since you were seventeen.”

“Not yet,” I whisper, and I press my lips gently to his, his broad chest heaving as we kiss soft and slow. And I roll my lower body slowly over his strong hips until he’s gripping the edge of the hot-tub, groaning my name as he lets go.

Chapter 33

Sunday

Jason puts the truck into park in the small Pine Hills lot, barely glancing out of the windshield toward the country bar before dismounting the vehicle.

He rounds the hood to the passenger side and opens my door as I undo my seatbelt, his eyes dipping slowly down my dress while he smooths back his hair with one large palm.

He’s staring at me like he’s never seen a woman before, and I can’t deny it – I love it.

I’m wearing a short baby blue dress – the kind that I would have worn for a night out in Nashville – and I’ve paired it with strappy matching heels that criss-cross seductively up my ankles. They’re totally not okay for this kind of weather but, from the way that Jason is looking at me, I’m pretty sure that he’ll be up for carrying me to and from his truck.

I’ve left my hair down, which is pretty rare for me, but I’ve brushed it out so that it’s soft and fluffy. And seeing as I have no pockets Jason’s got my phone, so it’s probably smashed into a million pieces after spending the entire ride under his quads.

He exhales heavily as he holds his hand out to me, his eyes on my toes as I carefully step down from his truck, and then he tucks me safely against his side as he closes up the door and shakes out a flannel.

“What are you doing?” I ask, eyeing him with amusement, even though I’ve known Jason since high school so I knowexactlywhat he’s doing.

When he starts ranging his giant shirt over my bare shoulders, I can’t help but laugh, rolling my eyes at how traditional he is.

“You know, the point of this dress is to be seen,” I tell him teasingly, but I don’t stop him as he fixes me up, making sure that he protects my arms from the late winter chill.

“It’s just until we get inside,” Jason rumbles, leaning back an inch to check that he’s placed it evenly on both sides.

And I bite back my smile as he fusses with me, low-key loving this protective military side of him.

I’m guessing that after over a decade in the Army, it’s a hard habit to shake.

I trail my eyes down Jason’s shoulders, over the fitted grey shirt that’s digging into his biceps, and down to the jeans hugging his quads, the hard denim soft after years of use.

So understated, and yet I know that Jason will be the hottest guy in the bar.

I also love the fact that Jason didn’t tell me to dress down tonight, because he knows the lifestyle that I’m used to and he’s rolling with it, rather than fighting it.

I’d made him wait downstairs while I got dressed in the master bedroom, and the second that he saw me I was in his arms, his palms squeezing my waist while he kissed my neck and rumbled, “You’re beautiful.”

I could meet every guy in the whole state and I’d still never find a man who makes me feel as loved as Jason Coleson.

He locks the truck, pockets his keys, and then laces his warm fingers through mine, kicking the snow out of the way with his boots so that he can create a safe path for my stilettos to walk through.

He glances down at them every couple of seconds, making sure that my little toes haven’t frozen off, and then he turns his attention back to the bar, which has a more diner-style feel – especially seeing as they’ve got a small menu on a board outside, offering grits and other small-town foods that are served at red booths flanking the bar.

“Is he here?” Jason asks gruffly, pulling the door open and stepping back so that I can walk in ahead of him.

And I’m immediately hit with a surprisingly comforting wave of nostalgia, suddenly feeling like I’m back in Nashville at Cash’s Bar.

The soft country music, the cinnamon-scented air, and the red string-lights and cowboy hat décor…

The laughter, the neon… it’s like a second home to me.

And warmth suddenly caresses my shoulders as Jason eases his shirt from over my chest, tucking it comfortably in his back pocket before settling his palms on either side of my dress.

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