Page 119 of Ripped & Shipped
CHAPTER40
Ella Mae
We makeit downtown and find parking behind the hardware store. It’s too close for comfort, but Dad’s always closed for the holiday, so I take a breath and step out onto the hot pavement.
Chris meets me before I even round the back of the truck. His hands come up and frame my shoulders.
“You look good, Ella Mae. Better than good.”
“Why, thank you kindly, Soldier,” I say in a feigned southern accent.
He shakes his head lightly. “What I’m trying to say is …”
I pop my hand on my hip, daring him to say what I think he’s about to say—what I hope he’s trying to find the words to tell me.
“All this faking …” he stares down at me.
Whether he knows it or not, his hands are making soothing strokes up and down the exposed skin on my shoulders.
“All this faking,” he repeats. “Well, it’s not. It’s not for me.”
“It’s not what, Big Boy?”
“I don’t want to fake it anymore.”
“You don’t want to fake being my boyfriend?”
Call me a sadist, but I need him to spell this one out.
He looks beyond frustrated, and then I see a shift in him. His jaw is set, his eyes steely with resolve, his grip on my shoulders is steady.
“I don’t want to fake it with you. No. I don’t. And I’m not. I haven’t been faking for a long time now. You mean so much to me. I don’t really know how it happened, or when, but I know this. When I tell you I care about you, I’m being honest. When you make me laugh, it’s genuine. And when I kiss you, it’s very, very real.”
That’s all I needed. His words echo in my ears:I haven’t been faking for a long time now.I reach up, loop my hand behind Chris’ neck and pull him down to me. Our lips collide like two magnets, north to south. Home. He feels like home.
I may have started the kiss, but he takes charge and pulls me toward himself, keeping one hand on my shoulder and bringing the other around behind me. I hum into his mouth as his hand makes leisurely strokes across my lower back. He teases my lips and drags his mouth across my jawline. Then he nips at my earlobe, and kisses a trail down my neck.
I think my eyes roll to the back of my head. Tingles explode across my body. Chris says the sweetest things on a whispered breath into my ear, punctuating his comments with kisses and the tickle of his beard.
It’s you, Ella Mae.
You’re it for me.
No one else.
I need you.
I want you.
You mean everything to me.
He’s just shy of saying he loves me. And I’m right there with him, though he’s rendered me speechless, boneless, mindless. I’m putty in his arms. Deliriously giddy putty.
I find words, somehow.
But I want to look in his eyes when I say this.
“Chris?” I say, pushing back a little so his arms are still looped behind me, but my hand is flat on his chest and our faces are just inches apart.
