Page 113 of Redemption
MJ stands in front of me, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and her hip propped against the door. There’s paint-splattered in her hair. Her face is free of makeup, letting hernatural freckles show through, and I can’t think of a time I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful than she does right now.
“Hi.”
It’s awkward and nowhere near what I want to say to her, but my tongue is having trouble functioning.
I’ve dreamed of her just like this every day for six years, dressed down and putting a home together. Only in my dream, it was our home, the one I bought because it was her dream.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I follow the motion, the movement driving me even further to distraction.
Then she opens her mouth to speak, and I watch the movement without hearing the sound.
Fingers snap in front of my face, jerking my attention back to MJ.
“Did you even hear what I said?” MJ sasses, her hands flying to her hips.
I shake my head, pulling myself out of the daze MJ puts me in.
Smiling, I try not to look so guilty. “I—uh— wasn’t listening.”
“Really? MJ deadpans. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Are you going to invite me in or what?”
She looks behind her and then back at me. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
“That’s okay,” I say, stepping close to her. Now that my mind has had a chance to adjust to the sight, I’m even more determined to spend time with her. “I don’t mind.”
Sighing, she pushes the door open wider for me to step through.
“Fine. But if you are going to stay, you have to help.”
From the glimmer in her eyes, I suspect she thinks it will make me turn around and run out the door, but she underestimates my need to just be near her. I’ll take anything she’s willing to give me.
“Put me to work, boss. Where do I start?”
My smile is innocent as I give a subtle flex of my biceps, and as much as MJ might want to pretend that I don’t affect her, her eyes tell a different story. They’re heated, just like they were on the first day of practice with Tanner when she saw my tattoo.
I never planned to tell her that I have her initials engraved into my skin, but if I had known the heat that would flame into her eyes when she saw it, I would’ve shown her on her first day back in town. That look was like pulling on a string. One slight tug, and I started to unravel.
Her lips lift at the corners, turning a little sinister as she shuts the door behind her.
“Since you like games, how about we play one while you’re here?”
She steps closer to me, tracing the muscle on my arm. Her eyes follow the movement, sliding past my elbow until she reaches my fingers. She laces her hand in mine, and I nearly come undone.
I swallow hard, trying to control my breathing. “What game?”
With a flash of her teeth, that smile turns secretive, devilish, almost as if she knows how hard she’s making my heart beat.
She steps back, leaving my heated skin to cool in the places she touched.
“Not a game—more like a bet.” She winks.
It’s an echo of words from the past, a dare if I’ve ever heard one, but she’s not the only one who knows how to play this game—I invented it.
So I step up, following as she retreats until her back hits a wall, and our bodies are inches apart.
I smirk, running my tongue over my lips. She zeros in on it. We’re circling each other, waiting for the other to strike.
