When Stars Collide (Second Chance Romance #2) - Sara Furlong-Burr Page 0,7
true,” I teased him. “Now that you’ve shown me all the cards in your hand, there’s no turning back.” Still straddling him, my eyes drifted up to his face while my hands made their way down to the button of his shorts.
“About that not pressuring you into doing something you’re not ready to do,” he began, stopping himself short when, perhaps, that little voice inside of his head planted the tiniest seed of doubt in his mind about his potentially broaching me to boldly go where our relationship had never gone before.
“You wait until I just about have your shorts off to present me with that?” Eyebrow raised, a habit of mine I broke out whenever I was curious, nervous, or a combination of the two, I studied his face, searching for anything I could glean. “You’re into that kinky shit, aren’t you?” I asked, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction when it was I who had taken him off guard that time. “What is it—whips, bondage, dominatrix fantasies?”
“Not where I was going with that, but we will be revisiting that soon.” He took my hands in his, and I realized then the extent of how shot my nerves were from the day’s excitement. “I was just thinking that we’ve been together for a while now, and— Christ, Mena, don’t look so petrified.”
“Who’s petrified? Not me, that’s who.” Stomach in knots, I hoped my face wasn’t reflecting how shot my nerves really were.
“I think,” he continued, never tearing his gaze away from my own, “I’d like you to meet Jackson.”
Relieved, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Is that it? Thank God, I thought you were going to propose there for a second.”
“What?” he laughed. “No. Not even remotely.”
“You didn’t have to put it like that.”
Even though a proposal was the absolute last thing I wanted to have happen right now, the way he responded—so incredulously—plunged itself deep into my body, like a knife to the gut.
“Wh-What do you think? Would you like to meet my son?”
He was more vulnerable than I’d remembered seeing him before. So full of hope that was swiftly becoming overcome with fear with each passing second of silence he met from me.
“Of course.” I cupped his cheek in my hand. “I would love to meet him. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, actually.”
“Really?” His entire body relaxed around me. Up to that point, I hadn’t known just how tense he had been. In hindsight, he must have been tense all day, what with having to keep Luke’s proposal a secret, telling me he loved me for the first time, and then tossing whether to raise the topic of my meeting Jackson around in his head.
“Yes, Peter, he’s a part of you. Why wouldn’t I?”
Peter kissed me urgently, taking me by surprise—albeit a pleasant one. Though this time, there was no relaxing on his part as he hastily made quick work of the rest of my clothing. Succeeding in his mission, he took me in his arms and rolled me over, positioning his body over mine.
“Any other surprises you want to spring on me tonight?” I slid his shorts down with my foot as his lips trailed their way down my bare chest.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
He flashed a mischievous smile, lowering himself the rest of the way down on top of me; our bodies fitting together, our hearts content.
CHAPTER TWO
I arrived back in Queens shortly after six the next evening, greeted by the familiar sight of my roommate, Jo, scrambling to tidy up the remnants of her weekend scattered over our apartment. I’d made it a habit of sending her a text whenever my flight landed, as I’d walked in on one too many of her trysts over the last two years. She was too busy to notice me this time, scurrying around, picking up everything from an empty wine bottle to towels and a pizza box. Gone undetected by her on the floor was a crumpled article of clothing, which I picked up and quickly identified as not belonging to her. It was pink, and Jo was decidedly not a pink kind of girl. Waiting for her to notice my arrival, I admired the blouse, rolling the material between my fingers. It was sheer, probably silk.
“Oh, hey,” Jo greeted me, removing an earbud from one of her ears, a full trash bag dangling from her wrist.