Moonshot

“Why?”

“Why do I love you?” There was a smile in his voice, as if it was a dumb question.

“Yes.”

“That’s a hard question.”

I made a face. “Ugh.” I pushed off him. “You fail.”

“Wait.” He stopped me, his arms strong as he held me in place. The same arms that had held down my legs as he had tasted between them. The same arms that swung a bat and brought millions of Americans to their feet. I lifted my eyes from those arms and to his face. “It’s not easy to answer. I love you because you look at me and see more than just a baseball player.” I went to speak, and he stopped me. “I love you because your smile does something to my heart. I love you because when I see you, I can’t stop staring at you. And when you’re away from me, I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you because right now, there’s nothing more tempting in life than to pull you on top of me and push inside of you. And I love you because you’re the first woman on Earth who I’ve wanted to wait for. Who I’ve treasured enough to be patient. I could wait a hundred years for you because the thought of doing anything that brings you pain makes my heart break. You are the most complex woman I have ever met.” I made a face, and he shushed me. “I’m serious. You are like a guy in so many ways—the way you call me out, the things you know, the way you swear, the arm on you that would put a hundred recruits to shame … you’re my best friend, Ty. And I haven’t had a best friend in a really long time. But…” He shook his head. “You’re also the most feminine creature on Earth.” He ran his fingers slowly down my side, over my hip, his fingers spreading as he placed a warm palm against my skin. “Your face, your body—the way you laugh, how you smell—hell, just the way you walk. It’s intoxicating.”

I held my breath, watching his eyes search mine, his hand soft as it ran through my hair.

“The end,” he finally said, and I smiled, his mouth turning up in response, his hand moving from my hair and gently rubbing over my mouth. “That smile right there,” he murmured. “You have no idea what it does to me.”