Page 95 of Pucked Together

But this. This is just for me. For us.

I bring my hand up to her neck and pull her toward me. Those gorgeous siren eyes move from my lips and back up to my gaze, and before she can pull away or come to her senses, I take her lips and kiss her with all the built-up, pent-up frustration of the last few months pouring out of me.

She leans into it with her entire body. My arms wrap around her to hold her closer as she straddles me. I move from her lips down her neck, tasting and savoring the feel of her skin on my lips.

I've missed her. I've missed this.

For a while, I wondered if she'd ever come back to me. If it was possible for us to have a child but share nothing else.

But as she moans and my name slips from her lips, none of that matters. Because Izzy is choosing me. Not because she's having my baby. But because she knows in her soul that I would never stop choosing her, too.

She reaches between us and pulls her shirt over her head. The skirt she's wearing is making it easy for me to reach down, move her panties to the side, and feel her wetness.

She moans again, and the sound sends waves of pleasure straight to my cock.

And then I remember.

She may be pregnant with my child, but as far as Izzy knows, she's a virgin. She doesn't remember her first time. This is all new to her.

And I can't help but think this might be the most amazing and just bizarre gift we could get.

A second chance at a first time.

She must notice my hesitation or read my thoughts because she grinds her hips into me, and with her voice low just enough for me to hear, she says, "I want this."

And that's all the permission I need. I trust Izzy to know what's best for her.

I might not always agree. But my girl is smart. She is more than capable, and right now, I very much agree with her.

"I want you, Wildfire."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I felt that jolt of excitement course through me. That maybe she remembers. The memories have flooded back. Despite what the doctors say about it, they will most likely return in small, incremental stages, if they ever did at all. I stayed hopeful. Being with this woman has made me this way.

Even though she doesn't know it.

"The texts," she reminds me. "That's what you called me. You're Goalie-zilla," she says with a smirk. "And I'm..."

Before she can finish her statement, I'm pulling her back onto me. Because after all this time, she is exactly what that name implies. She burns everything in her vicinity. She makes people light up.

And it's so fitting. Considering a wildfire is why my brother took my place all those years ago. What started as a hate-fueled thing has turned into the most loving thing I can imagine.

I pull her to me as I lift us both up, turn, and place her on the spot where I was just sitting. She looks up at me with eyes full of wonder as I kneel before her. I bring my hands to her thighs and slowly move up them until I reach the hem of her panties and tug them down just as deliberately. Her eyes are on me the whole time and I feel the skin underneath my hands pebble with goosebumps.

"You cold, baby?"

A quick chuckle escapes her, "No, I don't think I've ever felt hotter."

I pull the panties all the way off and swing them on one finger. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes are hooded.

"What are you going to do with those?" she asks, curiosity dripping off every word.

"Well, you once asked me if I was into BDSM."

Her features shift as if she's scared of what I'm about to do.

She gulps. "And are you?"

I stop swinging the panties and lean forward to grab both her hands that have been planted on the couch at her sides.