An all-new standalone second chance romance is coming next week from author Stacey Lynn, and I have a little sneak peek for you.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this conversation.”
I glance at him. His lips, full and beautiful as the rest of him, are lifted at one corner. “You ready for the kiss yet then?”
He’s always been the only man who can make me smile and laugh so easily, and it’s usually when he’s being ridiculous. Mostly, Jude is ridiculous a lot of the time. “No, Jude. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
“Yet.” He moves toward me easily and slowly, the clink of his crutches on the floor the only sound other than the thundering of my pulse.
He reaches out, slides his hand to the back of my neck. “Yet?”
“Shh, Katie. Give me this, the hope that someday, you’ll be ready again.”
Based on the heat flooding my veins, I’m ready now. I lean in and his hand at my neck squeezes. He’s so intense. All broad-shouldered and muscles and his icy blue eyes that change hues based on his emotions are intense, glimmering with hope.
“Jude.” My hand comes to his arm and I wrap my hand around his forearm. He’s bigger than he used to be. Stronger.
So much the same and so different.
It was difficult all those years ago to resist his pull, and it’s so much more difficult now.
“I didn’t want that day to be goodbye, Katie. I wanted to talk to you, figure out how we could make things work. I wanted to fly you down to see me on breaks and for games when you didn’t have tests. I figured I’d come back to Chicago in the off-season, give us that time.” He dips his head, bringing his searing, rich gaze closer and stuns me with his next words. “I spent hours that day figuring out how we could make this work between us.”
My lips part. He’s caught me off guard. His words from earlier are still rattling around in my brain. I didn’t want it to be goodbye.
I hadn’t expected that. Or what he says now. Which probably explains why I’m in shock, and I do the one thing I shouldn’t, the one thing I’m terrified of.
I roll to my toes and press my lips to his. I’m immediately lost, swept away in the scent and the soft feeling of his mouth as his hand holds me to him with a grip at my neck and he takes over.
In the distance, a buzzer sounds, immediately followed by the vibration of his phone.
“Dinner,” I whisper, pulling back and brushing my lips over his again.
He chases me as I pull away, growling. “This isn’t over.”
“Go sit. I’ll get the food.” I feel the weight of his gaze on me as I rush toward his door and smile at the clink-clank of his crutches as he does what he’s told. My mind is going topsy-turvy.
I’m not sure whether to be terrified, or excited that he feels that way. But at least this time, I know where his head is at.
Now I only need to figure out where mine is.