Page 56 of Play the Last Card
He’s so attractive it hurts and now he’s baring his soul to me?
When I’m sitting here, feeling so sorry for myself and showing him how vulnerable I am a lot sooner into any sort of relationship than I’d like, he knows exactly what to do and ensures I know he’s vulnerable too.
Fucking hell, this man is something else.
My body heats up the longer I stare at him. Sitting straighter, I press my thighs together.
“Ivy, I—”
I stop him, my brain suddenly going into overdrive. “Why did you tell me that? Just now, about your birth mother?”
His brows come together. “Huh?”
“Why did you share that with me?”
“I, um, well I guess I wanted to share with you. To let you know that I can understand missing a parent.” He swallows hard and my eyes track every minute movement of it. “Now that I think about it, maybe it isn’t relevant but you told me something really personal a week ago and I wanted to share too. You opened up. I wanted to do the same.”
My chest heaves.
Just as I thought, he’s hot and emotionally mature. He’s rare.
I reach up, pulling his hand from my hair and bringing it into my lap.
By the time my brain catches up on the words I say, it’s far too late. “What are we?”
Instantly I cringe.
In a moment, his fingers that are absentmindedly fiddling with mine pause and his eyes widen.
“Maybe it’s too early and I’ll probably regret this for the rest of my life if you freak out and run right now but,” I suck in some air, pressing up to tuck my feet beneath my thighs. Now, it’s me that fiddles with his hand. “I need to know what we are. I thought … I think, I mean I assume we’re dating? I guess. We go on dates. I don’t know … I haven’t really done this in …”
Scott turns over his palm. He fits our hands together and pulls. I fall into his lap, my body twisting. My lips are inches from his. His forehead falls to mine.
“We’re together,” he breathes out. It’s quiet but his voice still drips with decisiveness.
“Oh.” I stare at his lips.
“Yes, oh.” There’s a tiny smile in his voice. I track his tongue as it darts out to run the length of his bottom lip.
“Good,” I say, somewhat stupidly as I press my thighs together.
After today, after this week, feeling his body so close to mine feels nice. I feel small in his arms, on his lap. I feel safe and protected.
“Yes, good.” He runs a thumb over my cheek and the heat rushing to my face follows it as if the thumb is personally pulling it from beneath my skin.
“You feel better?”
I go to nod, lean in and press my lips to his and formally seal us both away in the bubble where no one else exists but us. But I pause, glancing to meet his eyes. “Can you ask me?”
Scott looks confused. “Huh?”
I sit back on his lap, my hands come up to perch on his chest.
“Ask me to be with you.”
He stares for a while longer, confused, until it dawns on him. “Ah.” He shifts under me before cupping my face. “Ivy, will you be my girlfriend?”
We stare at each other. He stays perfectly still as I assess him, pretending to think it over. Eventually, the throb between my legs overrules my need to make him sweat a little and I let out a giggle.