You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)
Monica Murphy
I’ve got it all, they say. I’m the starting quarterback for the best NFL team in the league. I’m rich. I’m famous. I can have any woman I want, any time I want.
Yeah, I’ve got everything—except for the one who got away. How do you move on from loving the same girl since you were in the seventh grade? She promised me forever until forever got too hard and at nineteen, she dumped me.
By text message.
Now she’s walked back into my life. Just as beautiful. Just as sweet. Just as smart. More grown up and incredibly sexy…
We’re older now. Supposedly wiser. This time, I’m going to fight for what I want, no matter how hard it gets.
This time, I’m going to make her mine.
Forever ago…
“Are you going to maul me on my front porch?” I ask Jordan.
The sexy look on his face tells me he’s considering it. “Don’t tempt me.”
A shiver moves through me and he pulls me back into his arms. “Cold?” he asks.
“Yes.” But happy. So happy. The porch is lit from the glow of the Christmas lights Dad puts up every year, and pretty much every house on our street is lit up as well. “Oh! I want to give you something.”
He frowns. “What?”
I wiggle out of his hold and pull the small wrapped box out of the pocket of my cardigan. “This is for you.”
His frown deepens as he stares at the box I’m holding before he lifts his gaze to mine. “I thought you were giving me my gift tomorrow.”
“I have two presents for you. This is the special one. The other one can wait until Christmas.” Tomorrow’s gift is a bottle of cologne that will make me want to lick him every time I smell him. A real win-win gift, if you ask me.
He takes the present from me and slowly unwraps it to reveal a simple black box. He pulls off the lid and finds the men’s silver link bracelet I bought for him. Lifting his head, he smiles at me. “I love it.”
“Really?” I stressed over his gift so much. I took my friends to the jewelry store and had them help me pick it out. They assured me it was perfect, but I still worried he might not like it.
“Really,” he says firmly, taking the bracelet out of the box. “Will you help me put it on?”
I take the bracelet from him and hook it around his wrist. It looks good on him and I smile, tracing my finger over the silver links. “You don’t mind wearing a bracelet?”
“I will wear anything from you with no complaints.” He drops a kiss on my cheek, then runs his finger over my new piece of jewelry. “Do you like your present?”
“I love it so much.” I hold my hand out and spread my fingers, admiring my new ring. It’s so tiny and dainty and perfect. A promise ring, he called it. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, his voice low. I turn to meet his gaze and see the heat there. The hunger. Goose bumps sweep over me as he leans in and kisses me again, his tongue searching my mouth, his hand cradling my cheek.
The front door swings open, causing us to spring apart, and my brother Trent is standing there with a disgusted look on his little face. “Mom says you two need to come in before you freeze to death, but I’m telling on you. Mom, Amanda and Tuttle are making out on the front porch!”
The door slams before I can hear what anyone else said.
“Should we go inside?” Jordan asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement. That he can tolerate my pain-in-the-butt brother says a lot about his character.
“I guess so,” I say with a little laugh.
“Hey,” he says from behind me just before I open the door.
“What?” I turn to face him, startled by just how close he actually is.
He reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin. “Did I tell you today that I love you?”
My cheeks go hot. Will I ever get used to Jordan so freely offering words of love to me? Probably not. “Yes, you did. But I’d like to hear it again.”
Jordan tugs me into his arms and kisses me, his mouth warm despite the freezing cold air. “I love you, Amanda,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you too, Jordan Tuttle.” I touch his neck, his hair. I can’t get enough of him. Ever.
“Forever?” he asks. It’s our new favorite word and hearing it makes me smile.
“Forever.”
Now
“So you’re telling me that glorious hunk of man flesh…” My friend Lena points at the giant TV screen where said glorious hunk of man flesh currently appears, his face on extreme close-up. “That guy right there. He’s your ex-boyfriend?” Her voice turns into a squeak on the last word, like she can’t believe it.
I nod. Take a sip of my drink. Heave an exaggerated sigh. “Yep.”
Lena blinks, looks over at the TV and tilts her head. We’re at a bar on a Wednesday night, drowning our work exhaustion in cheap cocktails and salty appetizers. “You must be lying to me.”
“I am so not lying.” I almost wish I was lying sometimes.
It’s really difficult to forget your ex when he’s everywhere. Like right now. There he is on the seventy-five-inch TV screen, the camera zoomed in on his ridiculously handsome face that he can’t hide even when he’s wearing a stupid helmet.