Page 128 of Forget Me Not

Something flashes across his eyes, but he scrubs a hand over his mouth and then it’s gone.

“Everything’s great.”

He kisses me again, this one warmer, full of dangerous heat that stirs my core, even though he made me come three times in the last couple hours already.

He presses me back against the house, his hand cupping the back of my head sweetly and the other pressed to the wood beside my ear.

When he breaks this kiss with a quiet groan and steps back, I shiver with the loss of him.

I wish he could stay, but we both know that’s not a good idea. We’ve already taken this farther than we should have. Just sex is one thing. Just sex and cuddling and deep conversations and bubble baths is something completely different.

“Good night, Nova,” he murmurs as he descends the stairs.

I watch him go, my chest fluttering with something painful. Maybe we’re strangers, but maybe we’re not. Not anymore. Maybe we’re just two people that were meant to heal together before life handed us our next tasks. Our next loves.

“Goodnight, Reid.”

“What are we doing?”

The hands covering my eyes make it impossible to see. All I know is Reid asked me to meet him at the Whitaker house when he stopped in to see the kids after fishing and flashed that damned smirk before he left.

So, here I am, eyes covered as I stumble through the house being steered by him.

“You’ll see,” he murmurs quietly from behind me.

Finally, he stops and when he drops his hands, my stomach goes with them.

Our little hideout has been completely transformed. The bed and pillows are set up better than I ever could. He’s cleaned an old table and two chairs that sat in the kitchen and moved it into the living room space we’ve claimed as our own. He’s even went as far as to light every candle I brought up from the cottage, casting everything in a warm, soft glow as the sun sets outside.

“You did this?”

I’m still in shock.

My heart beats a little faster when he steps around me and takes my hand, a glint in his eyes that’s not normally there.

Is this the part where he confesses his love for me and tells me he’s never leaving?

I actually don’t know what I would do if he did. I think I would eventually resent him for it because I would know he would always be thinking about what he missed out on to stay here with me.

Still . . . there’s that soft beating in the back of my heart that allows me to picture that exact moment where he’d tell me he’s staying.

But only for a second.

“Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

I’m actually ravenous, but I don’t tell him that. Kids will really take it out of you. Especially a dozen under ten.

He leads me into the living room to the table where he’s got two plates set up with steak, lobster, and small potatoes.

“It smells great in here.” I step up to the table and he hands me a glass of wine. “Wine and food. What did you do?”

He shrugs. “Thought you liked wine.”

I do, but I haven’t told him that.

“Surf and turf.”

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