Page 71 of The Worst Kind of Promise
Deflecting the sunrays, I snag a quick peek at Kit, who’s currently manning the steering wheel. The propeller cuts through the brackish water with splashes and gurgles, leaving behind a trail of pressurized bubbles.
I empty out a sigh. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. Hayes seems to have backed off for the time being, I have Kit’s full attention and commitment, and I have no other responsibilities to worry about right now. Hell, sometimes I even forget what brought me to California for the summer in the first place. I don’t think I’ve cried in…a week? Which, I know, seems like nothing, but when you were crying nightly like I was, that’s a big improvement. And since I’m in such a good headspace, I think I’m finally ready to tell Kit I love him. What better place to say the big L-word than on a boat? Preferably at sunset, surrounded by rose petals and a bottle of champagne.
I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but that’s prime romanticism right there. I’m going to outdo the doer. I wanthimto feel special for once. Kit deserves it. With everything he’s done for me, including jeopardizing his relationship with my brother, he deserves it.
Our cruiser glugs along before finding an unoccupied inlet, and I hear the buzz of the propeller shut off before I feel two strong arms wrap around my midsection. Kit’s body is hot from soaking up all the sun, and I nuzzle my head into his hard chest, the fragrance of his cologne and lightly scented sunscreen perfuming through my nostrils.
“I’ve”—he nips at my earlobe—“missed”—he lavishes my neck with a kiss—“you”—then drags his pillowy lips to the curve of my shoulder and bites playfully. I close my eyes and gouge my fingers through his wind-ruffled hair, lust summoning a breathy exhale from my agape mouth.
Kit licks my skin, the pleasured rumble in his throat juddering through me.
“It’s been fifteen minutes,” I laugh, turning around once he lifts his mouth off me, the delicious afterburn making lust eddy in the pit of my belly.
He grins. “What can I say? I have separation anxiety.”
I gently trace my fingertips over the grooves of his stomach and up to his firm pecs, where he captures my hand in his larger one. I look up at him through my lashes, chewing on my lower lip, and he stares into my eyes with a reverence I’ve never known before. It’s scary and startling and so overpowering that I lose grip on all my words.
My heart twists. “I—”
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, the peak of his knuckles ghosting over my cheekbone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just…I could spend forever staring at you, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”
I blink, and when I blink, tears threaten to overspill. Good tears. Happy tears. I don’t remember a time when I felt this loved before. Given my track record with men, it wasn’t something that I really believed would happen for me. At least, not for a long time.
“Your eyes outshine every star in the galaxy, Faye. And your laugh is my favorite sound in the entire world. I hear a lot of stuff on the ice—buzzers, whistles, angry and sob-filled screams, the hiss of skates on ice, the scuttle of the puck against my stick, shouts from my teammates. But none of it,none of it, compares to your laugh.”
Has your heart ever felt light and heavy…at the same time? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a weird feeling, and it’s foreign, but whenever I’m with Kit, my heart goes through a million stages at once. Lightness from his outpouring affection, heaviness from the sincerity of his words.
“I’ve spent countless hours mapping your body, finding the places where it melds to mine, and I’ve spent even more trying to figure out how I got so lucky to feel you in my arms. I want that for the rest of my life. I wantyoufor the rest of my life.”
I start to sputter like a fish out of water. “What does—what do you—”
“Don’t freak out, but what if…hypothetically…” He trails off, waiting for me to read his mind.
What if…what?
Panic has me caught in its undertow. “Kit, if you don’t get to the point—”
“What if I got your eyes tattooed on my arm? Like, over the tiger eyes.” All of his words are mushed together when they come out, a cannon fire of unintelligible strings, and the apples of his cheeks rosy with blush.
“What?” I echo dumbly, brows knitted.
He holds his right forearm up, where the tattoo mirrors his own eyes. “Your eyes, Faye.”
I don’t know what to say. He has to be the biggest idiot in the world, right? Shock and dubiety fleet through me, tying my tongue and failing to silence the warning sirens going off in my head.
“That’s permanent,” I blurt out, nowhere near ready to harbor the responsibility of tainting Kit’s flawless, golden skin.
He nods. “You’re permanent.”
“I…”
“If you feel uncomfortable with me doing it, I won’t. But I want to. I really want to.”
My nerves compress into an unswallowable lump in my throat. “I don’t want you to regret it,” I murmur.
“Hey.” He cradles the side of my face with his hand, the weight of his stare melting over me. “I could never regret anything when it comes to you. Ever.”
I’m frozen, and not just because Kit’s touch usually does that to me. I’m so overcome with affection that I can’t function properly. A part of me with Kit…always. No matter the distance that separates us. That means a lot considering summer is coming to a close, and I’m not sure where long distance will lead us.
