I want nothing more than to believe he’s right. To believe we might somehow be stronger together. To view relationships as an asset, rather than a weakness. To have faith.
I tilt my head as I taste the seam of his mouth with my tongue, drawing a moan from him that boils my blood. Tugging me closer, he splays his hand on my back, until we’re chest to chest, until I can feel the beat of his heart echoing against my own.
Just tell me what you want, Lettie, and it’s yours.
His hope and confidence fill all the empty pieces of me, pushing me forward until my toes dangle off the proverbial edge of something great, something bigger than me.
I pull away from him, my breathing heavy as I stare at this beautiful man, afraid he wants more than I can offer. “I wantyou,” I whisper, and then I jump.
Chapter 25
CHRIS
The thumping bass of the music reverberates through the club where we sit in the corner booth at Bradd’s. Elizabeth, Charlotte, Brynn, and Tatum excuse themselves, sliding from the vinyl bench and turning toward the bathrooms as I ogle my girl. “Damn, Baker, I hate it when you leave, but I love watching you go.”
She casts me a glance over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “How did I know you were staring at my ass?”
“What can I say?” I grin. “I’m a creature of habit.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, unimpressed. “Try to get some better lines while I’m gone, will you?”
“Why, when the old ones work so well?”
She chuckles and hurries off with her friends while I stare after her like a lost puppy. It’s been two weeks since our hot yoga date,and we’ve been spending nearly every spare moment we can find together, yet it’s not enough.
Brandon groans. “Shit, man, and I thought Jace was cheesy.”
“What can I say, gentlemen,” I spread my arms out over the back of the booth, quite satisfied with myself, “I’m happier than a pig in shit.”
“You know, I never got that saying.” Brandon’s forehead creases as he takes a sip of his beer. “I mean, why a pig in shit? Why not a pig in mud? Do pigs really love shit that much? No. They only roll in mud because it cools them off and protects them from bugs and shit.”
“Stop talking,” Damon mumbles, scrolling through his phone.
“Says the guy who can’t get off Instagram for one fucking second,” Jace grumbles, swiping a finger furiously up Damon’s screen.
“Dude!” Damon protests.
“He’s right, man,” I say with a sad shake of my head. “You’ve been glued to that fucking thing for weeks.”
“Ugh. I know.” Damon scrubs a hand over his face, then flops back in the booth. “I’m driving myself fucking crazy.”
“Tell Daddy Chris all about it,” I say, wiggling my fingers for him to spill his guts.
“Call yourselfdaddyagain, and I’ll punch you in the balls.”
I shrug. “Would it be worth it? Maybe.”
“This totally has to do with a chick, doesn’t it?” Jace asks. “Be honest.”
“What makes you think it has to do with a girl?” Damon asks, the picture of innocence.
I scoff. “It always has to do with a girl.”
“Whatever it is, man, we’re here for you. Anything you need,” Brandon adds.
Damon’s nostrils flare. His cheeks puff out like a chipmunk as he sucks in a breath. I can practically see the war he’s waging inhis head over whether to tell us or not as his face starts turning a fiery shade of red. “Fine!” he finally shouts, “it has to do with a chick.”
“Pay up, bitches!” I pound a fist against the table while the others groan.