Page 54 of Dump Tackle My Heart

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And maybe that’s enough for now.

But I’ll be damned if I stop there.

CHAPTER 18-DANIELA

The thingshe’s saying to me right now?

They’re everything.

Every damn thing I never let myself hope for.

Things I thought I didn’t deserve.

Things Iusedto believe only happened to other people.

In books. In movies. In lies.

And that’s the problem.

Because how do I know if this is real or just a really convincing snow-globe fantasy?

I mean, look at us—we’re snowed-in.

There’s a literal fire crackling behind us.

We’ve been naked more than clothed for two days.

Of course, feelings are going to swirl.

But here’s the truth I keep trying to shove down.

I’m already in deep.

This man—this impossible, growly, gorgeous, genius rugby god—he’s ruined me for anyone else.

With his hands, his words, his stupid pillow-tearing tenderness. I know this is dangerous territory.

But I’m not strong enough to pretend anymore.

So when his eyes smolder, and I feel the press of him against my belly—thick and warm and very, very hard—I stop overthinking.

I lean in.

And I kiss him.

Slowly, like the promise I can’t make out loud.

Softly, like I don’t want to scare it away.

And then I kiss him again, because there’s no coming back from this. I’m already his in all the ways that matter.

Might as well let my body admit it.

He groans into my mouth, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me closer, and I feel his whole body tense as I press against him.

“Are you kissing me because you’re cold,” he murmurs against my lips, “or because you’re ready to give us a chance?”

I pull back just far enough to look into his face.

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