Page 9 of Winning the Quarterback
"Slightly?" His eyebrow lifts in amusement. "You nearly climbed me like a tree when the zombie hand grabbed your ankle."
"That was a perfectly reasonable reaction to unwanted zombie touching!"
He laughs, the sound warming me more than the fire. "I'm not complaining."
Our eyes meet, and the laughter fades into something deeper. Devin's gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, a silent question hovering between us. My heart hammers against my ribs as he shifts slightly closer on the hay bale, his knee brushing mine.
"Nora," he says, my name sounding treasured in his voice. "I've been wanting to do something all day."
"What's that?" I barely recognize my own voice, breathless and hushed.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, rough palm against soft skin. "This," he murmurs, and then he's leaning in, giving me time to pull away if I want to.
I don't want to.
When his lips touch mine, it's gentle at first, slow. A whisper of contact that sends electricity racing down my spine. Then I make a small sound in the back of my throat, and something shifts. His kiss deepens, becomes sure and heated, his hand sliding from my cheek to tangle in my hair.
I melt into him, my hands finding his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath my palm. He tastes like mint and something sweet, and the sensation of his mouth moving against mine makes my head swim.
This kiss is nothing like the ones I write in my books. It's messier, more real, more overwhelming.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Devin rests his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
"Been wanting to do that since you chased your cat across the street," he admits, voice rough.
"That long?" I tease breathlessly. "It took you a whole day?"
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of us. "I was trying to be a gentleman."
"Overrated quality," I murmur, and he kisses me again, quick and firm, like he can't help himself.
Around us, the world narrows to this moment. The crackling fire, the scent of smoke and fallen leaves, the distant murmur of voices, and Devin's hands cradling my face like I'm something precious.
"You still want that cider?" he asks after a moment, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.
I shake my head slowly. "Not yet. This is nice."
His smile is soft, intimate. "Yeah. It is."
As we sit together by the fire, his arm around me, my head against his shoulder, I think about all the romances I've written, all the first meetings and first kisses, all the momentsof connection I've tried to capture in words. None of them prepared me for how this would feel.
Chapter 4 – Devin
Some moments change the trajectory of your life.
A coach's call that sends you left instead of right. A missed tackle that ends a career. A woman's smile in the firelight that makes you realize you've been sleep-walking through your own existence.
Walking beside Nora through the quiet streets of Whitetail Falls, I can feel it happening, that subtle shift in gravity, realigning everything around her.
We decided against The Copper Kettle. Neither of us said why, but the unspoken hangs between us, electric and inevitable. Instead, we're making our way back to our street, taking the long route through Acorn Circle where the town has strung fairy lights through the massive oak trees. The truck is still back at the station. Walking feels like a better choice now.
The golden glow catches in Nora's hair and illuminates her profile, the gentle slope of her nose, the fullness of her lower lip, still slightly swollen from our kisses.
"You're staring," she says without looking at me, but I catch the smile tugging at her mouth.
"Can't help it." I don't bother denying it. "You look like something out of a painting in this light."
She laughs, ducking her head. "That's a line straight out of one of my books."
