Page 34 of Forgotten Romance

I clutch my mug with both hands so I have something to do with them.

“The Grinch? Really?”

“Kiera loves it,” he whispers.

“It also gives her nightmares.”

Davey’s pretty dark lashes flutter with an eye roll. “That was one time.”

“It might happen again.”

He waves a hand toward the TV. “Feel free to tell her we’re watching something else.”

Yeah, I’m not dumb enough to do that. I hunch down on the couch some more, judging whether I can spread my legs wide enough that my knee will touch his. Given I’m still in jeans that don’t like being parted, I’m worried I’ll bust open the crotch before that could happen.

Dammit.

Okay, what else?

Even thinking about this is dangerous. The three of them, surrounded by all those flowers and snowflakes, really got me in the heart, and now I’m possibly going to be maybe ruining that, all because I want to touch Davey. Would he let me move closer? What about snuggle? It’s not something we’ve done in years, and definitely not since we broke up, but men do that, right? When they’re friends. Could we snuggle as two friends?

I shoot him a quick glance and find him already watching me. He catches his face in time because the soft look snaps into an easy smile before he turns back to the TV.

Something I need to do as well. The TV. The movie. We’re watching it together, and I’m definitely not being distracted by my ex-husband and the insanely sweet thing that he did.

This is the sort of thing I should be planning.

Dammit, why is it that the one person who would kill it at planning sweet things for us to do is the one person I can’t go to for help? Even I’m not dumb enough to be all hey, babe, can you help me plan a date for us that I can use to get you back?

Davey’s knee drops against mine.

My gaze zeros in on the contact, wondering if he read that play from my own mind. He’s wearing soft sweats—a pair of mine, I think?—which makes movement easier, and maybe I should excuse myself to go and get changed too.

Though now I’m more curious about excusing myself to go and see if that same pair of sweats is in my drawer. If Davey’s wearing mine, I’ll have no choice but to demand he removes them at once. Uh … after the kids are in bed. But then. Then he’d have to give them back. Immediately. While I stood there and watched.

“You okay?” he leans in to ask.

“Yup.”

“Then why are you … are you panting?”

Ah. Fuck. I was breathing loudly. Not panting, but the thought of Davey taking his pants off is getting me hard. I really, really, really need to stop my mind from going there.

“Need to take a piss.” I ditch my hot chocolate on the table and jog upstairs, hoping the exertion will get my cock to behave. He’s my ex for a reason, and those reasons haven’t changed.

But, fuck.

It’s been years.

Maybe not for him, but I just can’t bring myself to sleep with anyone else. As far as my dick is concerned, I’m still married, and the only guy it wants is Davey. I close my bedroom door and press my forehead to it.

This isn’t fair.

Why can’t I move on from him?

Okay.

Plan.

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