Page 26 of Forget Me Not

“I’m serious. If you don’t want to sell, don’t. No one can force you. Your grandparents are signing it over to you, anyway. It’s all in what you’re willing to do for yourself, Nova. Not worrying about what anyone else thinks is the first step of that.”

I’ve never outright gone against Mom and Dad’s wishes. They’ve always been there for me. With the accident. With the aftermath.

“I can’t just go against what my parents want, Reid.”

He steps up onto the porch and I step back, mostly to get out of the range of the scent of his skin. Warm, like the sun. Foresty, like the thick trees behind the cottage. Salty, like the ocean.

“When do you do something you want to do, Nova?” He says it so quietly, almost like a whisper.

When do I do the things I like to do?

Shit. “I do do the things I like.”

“Okay, and what are they?”

Double shit. “Well, I paint. I read. I . . .” I stammer a lot. God, Nova. Get it together. He’s not that hot.

Okay, maybe he is, but he’s still so a raging asshole.

Slowly, carefully . . . as if he’s stalking me, he steps closer. I step back, my ass grazing the wood siding of the cottage behind me, but I can’t take my eyes off him. Not when he steals my breath away. Not when that gaze makes me feel like my heart will beat out of my chest.

He stops, a mere inch separating us, and his hand comes to rest on the wall beside my head. His arms—they’re as thick as my thigh. I’m sure he could break me if he wanted.

“Reid.” My voice comes out as a whisper, almost completely drowned out from the waves crashing against the rocks below the cliff the cottage sits on. I swallow past the lump in my throat, willing the heat in my body to calm down.

I’ve never been like . . . this. I’ve never been the type of woman to crave a man’s hands on me. To feel the callouses on his palms rubbing my bare skin.

At least not until now.

He’s so close I can feel the heat of him radiating through my clothes. Part of me wants to step closer, the other, more rational part, wanting to back away and go to bed.

Gently, he leans down, not really kissing me. More like stealing my air. Sucking the life from me through a single breath at a time until I’m dizzy with the taste of him.

It’s never been this intense before, my brain whispers, but I refuse to focus on it. If I do . . . it’ll destroy me.

“What are you hiding from, little bird?”

His voice is deep, husky, and so quiet, I almost don’t hear him say it. My stomach dips at the way the pet name rolls off his tongue. I don’t know why. It’s not special, but something about the dark look in his eyes makes my heart falter in my chest.

I want his kiss. I want to taste him . . .

In that instant, I throw caution to the wind and close the inches between us, pressing my lips to his and giving in to the temptation I’ve felt since I met him.

Only, he doesn’t kiss me back.

He stills, not even breathing and my head starts to break through the lavender haze over my brain.

“Nova,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice dark. I pause, pulling back just enough to look at him, even though I should be running the other direction. In his eyes . . . it’s a warning. Keep pushing and something bad will happen.

Unfortunately, I seemed to have taken a liking to danger.

I kiss him again and this time . . . this time he doesn’t hold back.

He groans, his hand slipping to my hair and fisting it at the roots to tug me closer to him. His kiss is devouring, dominating. Fierce and demanding. It’s like being consumed by fire. You know it’s burning you, but you’re powerless to fight it.

My stomach explodes with butterflies the moment his tongue slips between my lips and meets mine, my arms tangling around his neck and his roaming my body. He presses me between his front and the wood paneling and I can feel his hardness resting against my stomach.

I whimper and he swallows the sound, his hand slipping down to my side and back up, ghosting over the sides of my breasts before slipping lower to grip my hip in bruising strength.

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