Page 151 of Break Point
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles and tips his head to invite me closer.
I perch beside him and nestle my hand under his so I don’t mess with the IV.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “The nurse said the surgery went as expected.”
“Good,” he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. “Tired. Groggy. My shoulder feels a bit tight. But I’m good.”
“Does it hurt?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.
“Not yet. I’m used to the pain, though.”
It breaks my heart to think how long he’s been withstanding the discomfort, thinking he deserved it.
“I’m going to miss you in Europe,” I say. “Who’s gonna carry my racket bag around the stadiums? Tim doesn’t seem the type to do so.”
He laughs.
“You broke your carrying mule. Hope it was worth it.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“He’ll miss the job, though,” he whispers. “Mostly the boss.”
“I’ll bring you back a trophy for your birthday,” I say. “I promise.”
Roland Garros ends on June 5th—Henry’s birthday. If I fight my way back to the finals again, the women’s match will be held on June 4th.
Here’s to hoping I get that far.
No matter what, I’ll try to be home for his birthday.
“All I need is for you to come back to me.”
“Always will.”
“Kiss me,” he breathes.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never.”
I brace myself on the bed, careful with how my weight shifts so I don’t hurt him or make him uncomfortable. Slowly, I lean in and press my lips to his.
He groans, quiet and low, then gently tugs at my lower lip with his teeth before pulling back with a frown.
“What is this sorcery,” he says, his eyes darting at my glossy lips.
I laugh under my breath.
“It’s vanilla mint,” I say. “It’s new.”
“I can tell.” He nods once, twice, like he’s confirming it to himself. “More.”
He leans in and takes my mouth again in a soft but consuming kiss, his lips brushing mine like he’s savoring the flavor andmewith every slow stroke. His tongue moves warm and lazy against mine, patient but searching. I gently cradle his face, careful not to jostle the IV or his shoulder, and deepen the kiss. He sighs into it like he’s finally found something worth staying awake for, and I am ready to dissolve into him. Into this bed. Into the way he tastes like trust and vanilla and everything I’ve ever wanted.
