Page 91 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

He shrugged. “Nothing too big. Open it up and see.”

She took the bag from him. She bit the corner of her lip, but it didn’t hide her smile. “You got me something?”

“Just open the bag.”

Imani nodded before opening the bag. Frowning, she reached inside and pulled out her gift, a rectangular acrylic nameplate. “‘Doctor Imani Kemp. Doctor of the Year.’” She looked up at him.

“It’s for your desk. It’s a reminder that regardless of the reason, you are the doctor of the year and you deserve it.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to get you something.” His lips lifted in a sad smile before he spoke again. “Honestly, when I ordered it I hoped you would be staying in town. I thought you could put it on your desk when you started working here in Peachtree Cove.”

Sadness clouded her eyes as she ran her fingers over her name. “I would have liked to stay.”

He took a step toward her. “You can stay.”

She lifted her chin and raised her brow. “Did you ask me here to rehash what we already know?”

He shook his head but stepped closer. “A man can try.”

She put the nameplate back in the bag. “And a woman can be tempted.”

He took the bag from her and put it on the small table next to the door. “Things could be different.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Do you really believe they will be?”

He didn’t. Even though he wanted Imani and wanted his dad to be happy for them, he also knew he couldn’t imagine having his dad around Ms. Kemp knowing the way things ended with them. He couldn’t be selfish and flaunt having the woman he wanted in front of his father. Especially when that woman was the daughter of the woman Preston lost.

“I don’t know if I can forget you, Imani.” He ran his fingers across her cheek.

“I don’t want you to forget me. I want you to think about me every day. Just like I’ll be thinking about you.”

The soft admission seeped into his soul. He cupped the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “Tell me now if you don’t want this.”

“What if I change my mind later?”

“It’ll hurt, but I’ll still let you go.”

Her full lips lifted before her hands splayed across his chest. “I know why you asked me here, and I want to be here. I want this last time, with you.”

The words last time ripped through him like a chainsaw. Painful, ragged and chaotic, but that didn’t make them any less true. He lowered his head and kissed her. He didn’t want tonight to be just regrets and sadness. Tonight he was being selfish, and from the way Imani’s lips spread and she passionately deepened the kiss, she wanted to be selfish, too.

He pulled on the edge of her sweater. She lifted her arms and he quickly jerked it off and tossed it aside. He wanted her so badly his hands shook. His entire body vibrated with the need to feel her skin, caress her curves and kiss every inch of her. If this was all he was going to have of her then he wanted to make it last.

All of his noble intentions of taking things slow and savoring her flew out the window when she unfastened his jeans and her hands slipped into the front of his boxers. She took him in her hand and stroked all thoughts from his head except to get inside of her immediately.

“I’m trying to make this last.” His voice was raspy, need-soaked and he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed.

Imani gently squeezed him before sliding her thumb across the tip. “Round two can be slower.”

He didn’t think he could get harder, but he almost lost himself at those words. He lifted her by the waist and put her on the small table by the door. The bag fell onto the floor with a thud.

“My nameplate,” Imani said trying to look down.

He kissed her neck and sucked softly. “Did not break and I’ll buy you a hundred more if it’s damaged.”

Her sexy chuckle was like accelerant to the fire burning in him. He kissed her fiercely. With all the pent-up frustration, need and longing surging through his veins. Imani met his kiss with just as much passion. She shoved down the waistband of his jeans and underwear. Not breaking the kiss, Cyril awkwardly shook them off his legs and kicked them to the side. The table wobbled as they pulled off Imani’s leggings and underwear.

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