Page 63 of Falling for Autumn Again

I lift my head to glare at him.

“And it’s really fun watching you squirm. I’ve missed it.”

My heart betrays me, warming and thumping and fluttering all on its own.Feelings. Ugh. I mentally remind my heart that we don’t love Ezra Bennett anymore, and it should probably just settle down. But it’s like a disobedient child, hungry for sugar and sitting right in front of a bowl of Halloween candy.

“I haven’t missed you,” I lie. “Not one little bit.”

“Except that you have.”

I reach out and flick him right on his bare pectoral. “Stop that.”

Ezra grabs a hold of my wrist. “You stop pretending.”

I gulp down my heart and lie. “I’m not pretending.”

“You are. And we both know it.” He weaves an arm around me, his hand pressed at the small of my back, inching me closer. “You didn’t send me away because you stopped loving me, Autumn.”

No, I did not. If anything, it was the opposite. My stupid teenage heart loved him more than anything in the world.

My lips tingle, remembering his as they pressed to mine, as his sweet, minty breath took over every single one of my senses. Ezra Bennett is like a drug. And I’ve been clean for ten long years. But that doesn’t stop the cravings.

For years, I wanted two things: out of this town and Ezra. I didn’t get either.

And dangling himself in front of me now is the meanest tease of all. I’ve been strong. So strong. But I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out. If only I hadn’t kissed him. If I hadn’t given in, the longing wouldn’t be so difficult now.

Ezra’s head falls, closing in on me. I am a statue. Frozen intime. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. It’s not my fault… at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

He’s close and he smells like he just stepped out from bathing beneath a waterfall: musky and clean, fresh and masculine. It’s a scent any good woman could drown in. Again—not my fault.

He’s ready to close the gap when a tap on my front door, just out of sight, sets us both to pause.

“Leave it,” he whispers, his sweet, minty drug beckoning me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Autumn

“Ezra,”I whimper out—because I am one giant wimp. “I think you should stop trying to kiss me.”

“But I like trying to kiss you.”

Another knock—this time, I’m certain, that is a knock and not my betraying heart.

With both of my hands on Ezra’s naked chest, I push his minty breath and his cedarwood cologne away from me.

To which he laughs.

So glad he finds all of this hilarious while I’m melting away over here.

I move past Ezra into my living room, where a strange man—and yet a very familiar man—stares in at me through my screen door.

He’s dressed up—collared shirt and jacket—and he’s holding a bouquet of daisies.

I gulp.

Crap.

That’s right—Meg accepted a date on my behalf. One I never cancelled. And that date would betonight.

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