Page 249 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Steady.
Unhurried.
His lips are hot against my skin. Then, slowly, he runs his tongue over my finger, tasting it from the base of my finger to the tip in one smooth motion, and back again. By the time he pulls back, I’m barely breathing, and my pulse thrums.
“Sweet,” he says. “But still not as delicious as you.” His voice is playful with a hint of something underneath.
Something deep.
Something simmering.
Something that tastes like danger and desire on the same breath.
I give a short, breathless laugh. “That’s not how most people eat honey.”
He grins, still holding my hand. He traces his thumb across my palm now, like he’s mapping every line.
“Good thing I’m not most people.”
My heart thuds so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
He kisses my hand before leaning back. With one knee bent, he rests his elbow, while the other leg folds closer to the ground, keeping him steady and relaxed.
“I don’t remember you being this smooth.” I pick up my fork.
“I was smooth.”
I snort. “You were arrogant. Thought the quarterback title entitled you to everything and anyone you wanted.”
He takes a bite. It’s just a bite. One bite. So why does it feel like he’s undressing me with his teeth?
“I only ever wanted you.” And the way his jaw flexes when he chews should not be legal at a picnic. “And a two-level library.”
“Two-level library?”
He nods. “Cozy and country-style library with a spiral staircase leading up to a second floor filled with books, old leather chairs, and a reading nook.”
I smile as he drags me back to our dream home.
“The walls are lined with bookshelves made from—”
“Reclaimed wood,” we say collectively.
“There has to be one of those old rolling ladders to reach the top shelves.” It’s every girl’s dream.”
He nods. “Absolutely, and an indoor horse stall. Did you know that’s a thing now?”
“I didn’t. Tell me more.”
And he does.
He expands detailing how our future barn isn’t separate from the house. The idea thrills me, especially given my love of horses. With a sunroom off the living room featuring tall windows that overlook the stalls, we will be able to sit with our morning coffee and watch our horses.
He describes a hallway made entirely of glass, wood underfoot, leading from the kitchen to the tack room.
He discusses custom ventilation systems, as if he has conducted a thorough analysis of the structure, and the special insulation seals everything, making it safe. The scent of hay and horses never drifts into the bedrooms, but still, they’re close.
Right there. Part of the house.
