Chapter 34
SAM
After the best kiss of my life, I can’t drag Becca out of the stadium fast enough. Unfortunately, our friends and family circle us before we make it three steps.
Why did I think inviting everyone who loves us would help?
Becca stands in the middle of the group while people talk over each other. Her cheeks glow pink, eyes bright, the crowd noise bleeding into the celebration around her.
Phoenix leans forward, pointing at the field. “That was literally a movie brought to life.” Becca laughs, covering her mouth for a second, and I catch the way she tries to hide how pleased she is.
I could watch her smile like that for the rest of my life. A nudge hits my elbow. Grandad.
“Nice work, kid,” he says, squinting up at me. “Knew you had it in you.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Still not enough.”
“Damn right.” He chuckles. “At least now she knows you’re capable.”
“Hey.”
He laughs harder. Before I can defend myself, Mack barrels into my side and throws an arm around my ribs. The woman may be small, but she still hits like a linebacker.
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing tight.
“For what?”
“For making her movie dreams come to life. Becca deserves hearts and flowers. Even if she never budgeted for them.”
“She deserves a hell of a lot more than I gave her.”
Mack looks up thoughtfully. “That’s how I know you will. There is no end, the goal post always keeps changing the more amazing she gets.” She releases me and walks off back to Reece and Jared.
Across the row, Becca lifts her head and finds me watching her, then beams. The air leaves my lungs; I haven’t seen that smile in too long.
For years, I told myself she didn’t need big gestures.
She never asked for purses. Never asked for fancy dinners.
She worked harder than anyone I’ve met and carried half the world on her shoulders.
I called her low maintenance. But the truth is, I used that label as an excuse. One I will never use again.
The game drags through the late summer heat. The Bucks lead three to one. Crowd noise swells and fades around us. My arm rests across Becca’s shoulders. Her head leans against me. Cold beer sweats in my hand. Friends fill the seats around us. There isn’t another place on earth I’d rather sit.
Then, her hand slides onto my knee. I feel my phone buzz against my thigh. I shift slightly, pulling it free to glance down.
Rick. I don’t open it, I already know it isn’t good.
Becca’s fingertips begin to trace along the inside of my thigh. I take a slow drink and keep my eyes on the field. Grandad sits two seats away.
Breathing steady, I try to act normal. Her fingers slip higher beneath my shorts. I swallow. Another slow pass. Higher. The edge of my boxer briefs. She barely touches me. Light strokes that make every nerve in my body light up. That’s enough. I set my beer down.
I glance at my phone again, reading the text.
Rick
Big night for you, hope you and the Mrs. enjoyed it. Oh, btw, how are the permits going? They don’t usually disappear like that …
He's watching. The thought settles cold in my chest. It isn’t too surprising; he’s probably seen the footage from all the phones out, and Cascadia is a small town. Not tonight. I pocket my phone. Not tonight.
“Time to go,” I mutter. Becca glances up. “What?” I grab her hand and pull her up with me.
“Sorry, everyone,” I call over my shoulder. “Early morning.” The sun still hangs over the stadium.
Nobody buys it, and I don’t care. Becca laughs as I drag her toward the exit.
The walk through the parking lot takes longer than it should.
The air is warm and still smells faintly of popcorn and cut grass.
Becca keeps laughing at my eagerness. I open her car door and lift her by her waist, relishing the feel of her in my hands again.
I buckle her seatbelt and kiss her cheek.
“Precious cargo.” I have always said that to her while getting her in my truck, and I mean it more now than ever before. I climb in the other side, and her hand slips into mine. Her fingers squeeze once.
“Your fault,” she says.
“My fault?” I question.
“You started it.” She smirks.
“Pretty sure it was your fingers on my thighs, babe.”
She lifts a brow.
“You kissed me as if I have Never Been Kissed before in front of the entire stadium.”
Fair point.
The scent of her shampoo drifts down in the warm evening air. My pulse hasn’t settled since the kiss. Since the way she looked at me afterward, like I hung the moon.
The stadium lights glow in the distance. People stream through the lot behind us. Becca turns in her seat, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“You really did that,” she says softly.
“Did what?”
“Recreated my favorite scene in my guilty pleasure movie.”
I shrug. “I cost you enough dreams, Becca. It was time I made one come true.”
She studies my face like she’s searching for something, then her hand settles on my arm. Slowly, her thumb moves along my skin.
“You planning on behaving tonight?” she asks coyly.
“No,” I reply honestly.
Her mouth curves. “Good.” She leans across the console and kisses me. The kiss starts softly, carefully.
Then her fingers curl into the front of my shirt and pull me closer. The heat between us spikes fast. My hand finds her waist. I pull her across the seat until she’s straddling my lap.
“Becs,” I mutter as she laughs against my mouth.
“Relax,” she teases.
Easy for her to say, my heart is pounding like I’m sixteen again.
Her fingers slide through my hair. My hand moves along her leg. The bare skin there sends a shock through my system.
She shivers. “Sam.”
Not a warning, a request.
I shift my attention lower, kissing along her jaw, her neck. Her breath catches as my hand drifts along the inside of her thigh, repeating the same motions she gave me in the stadium. The sound she makes stops my brain for a second.
The parking lot noise fades behind us, and I send a silent thank-you to my past self for tinting my windows when I got the truck.
I trace my fingers over her panty-covered pussy, feeling how wet she already is.
The world shrinks down to her breathing, her hands gripping my shoulders, the quiet sounds she tries to swallow.
“Babe,” I say, making her open her eyes. They are glassy, and I feel her hips unconsciously moving against my fingers, seeking more pressure.
“Are you sure?”
It would kill me to stop, but I will if she doesn’t want this. That isn’t what tonight is about.
“Yes, please, Sam, I need you,” she pleads.
Her words are my undoing as I slide my fingers under her panties and into her tight pussy. We both groan at the contact.
“You never have to beg for it, baby, but it does sound so good from your pretty lips.” I sink deeper inside her, hitting the spot I know drives her nuts. Becca arches her back at the sensation, but I pull her in closer.
“No. Stay close to me. Can’t have you falling back against the horn, letting everyone know what I’m doing to you right now.” Her eyes open wide as she looks around for anyone watching.
“I got you. I would never let anyone see you this way. This look,” she gasps as I circle her clit with my thumb. “This look is all mine, and I will never take it for granted again.”
Her breathing is ragged, her walls are tightening around my fingers, I can tell she’s close, she just needs one more push.
I grab her hair behind her back and pull until her chest is pushed up high to my face. Over her thin cotton dress, I can see the outline of her lacey bra. I nuzzle her cleavage softly at first until I gently bite down on her nipple. She explodes from all the sensations at once, drenching my hand.
Then she finally sinks against me, breathing hard, her forehead against my collarbone. Neither of us speaks as we catch our breath.
I brush my hand along her long hair. “You okay?”
She nods. “Yeah.” Her voice comes out softer than usual.
I kiss the top of her head. “Let’s get you home.”
The drive across town passes in a blur of warm night air and quiet music from the radio. My hand is on Becca’s thigh. Neither of us mentions what just happened in my truck, but the silence isn’t awkward. More like both of us trying to hold onto something fragile.
I pull into her driveway and kill the engine. The porch light spills across the gravel, home. Crickets, the distant sound of the wind through the trees, and nothing else.
I walk her up the steps. My breath is shortening with every step closer to the door. Becca reaches the porch first and turns around. For a second, we stand there. The screen door creaks in the breeze. I shove my hands into my pockets.
“I should probably—”
“Sam.”
I stop as her eyes search my face. “You don’t have to go.”
The words hang in the warm night air. My pulse jumps. “You sure?”
She nods once. Then she opens the door. “Come inside.”