Page 79 of Forgotten Romance

“Always was.” I glance up to find him blatantly checking me out. There’s something about the way his dark eyes light up when they’re running over me that makes me want to strip off and ask for more.

Feeling daring, I ask, “Hey, remember after our first-ever date?”

A corner of his lips kicks up. “When you blew me in the car because you were too scared to come inside?”

“It was our first date. And you lived with your parents.”

“Temporarily.” He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “I’d just graduated and was working out what was next.”

I shrug, feeling cocky. “Next was me.”

“It definitely was.” He pinches the front of my sweater and tugs me closer. “It was never supposed to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had this whole idea. I’d get a job, move away, maybe settle down in my midthirties.”

“What happened to those big fancy plans?”

“I met you.” Davey’s gaze is filled with the same affection squeezing my heart. “This man I thought I’d go out with one time, hopefully get in his pants, then leave behind the second I was out of here.”

“But you went and fell in love with me instead.”

There’s no regret, no bitterness. None of those negative emotions can touch us tonight. “Almost immediately.”

“What was it?” I have the guts to ask. I’ll be thanking the alcohol for all these questions later. “There are plenty of other men out there. I’m sure you’ve met loads of great ones while traveling all the time.”

“I’ve met some really, really great people.”

“Then …”

“They’re just people. It’s hard to pinpoint what it is I love about you because it’s not one thing. It’s not your eyes. Or your laugh. Or the way you’re so … so … earnest sometimes. One of those things without the rest isn’t you.” Davey’s fingers trail over the back of my hand. “It’s the way these fingers grip the books you read.” Slide along my forearm. “And how you hold our babies in these arms.” He reaches my neck. “The way you go so red, right here, when you get embarrassed about the most ridiculous things.” Both hands cup my jaw. “It’s your eyes saying what your mouth can’t, and it’s the truly filthy things you sometimes let slip past your lips …” The raw emotion in his tone is something I’ve yearned for every year since I lost it.

I tell myself I’m not going to cry because that would be stupid, but Davey goes all out of focus anyway. The moment hovers so painfully tight with tension between us, and I know I shouldn’t. I know we’re working through things, don’t want to move too fast, blah, blah, blah.

But I defy anyone to hear those things said about them and not be hungry for the one saying them.

Then Davey’s eyes sharpen. The sweet awe disappears, and the hunger in my gut is mirrored back at me.

“You know what? Fuck it.”

Our mouths crash together, lips part, teeth clashing and tongues meeting. The burning in my soul is impossible to ignore, and all I want and need right now is Davey.

I grope at his shoulders, bodies fused together as I fit one hand between us to get to work on his buttons. The clothes need to go. Fucking winter. Fucking layers.

One of Davey’s large hands is set possessively on my lower back while he tugs up the side of my sweater with his other.

“Need,” he grunts into my mouth. “Off. Now.”

“Then we have to stop kissing,” I manage to get out as he does the complete opposite. Talking with another mouth fused to yours isn’t the easiest, but I don’t want him to go anywhere either.

His frustrated growl is music to my ears as his mouth breaks away, but like he changes his mind at the last minute, he redirects to my neck.

The sensitive skin sends ripples through me as he sucks on the spot that drives me wild. He still knows my body. And I still know his.

I reach the bottom button and push the shirt from his shoulders. The fucking thermal is still between me and skin, and I’m not above playing dirty. My thigh slots perfectly between his legs, and he grinds his hard-on into it in response.

“Fuuuuck, Mack.”

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