Page 34 of Isla

"Because I knew if I ever got the chance to kiss you, it would be the first day of the rest of my life." He shifts closer, the sun slanting over him, deepening the angles of his face, sending a surge of red-hot desire through my body.

"What are you waiting for, then? Kiss me."

15

The moment right before a first kiss is one of my favorite parts of the human experience. Hearts racing. Held breath. Flushed cheeks. Anticipation buzzing in the air like electricity. Dylan draws the moment out in an exquisite form of torture. Fingers sliding into the hair at the base of my neck and tugging gently. His nose skimming along my jawline. The puff of breath against the shell of my ear. A trembling palm cupping my cheek. His thumb sweeping over my cheekbone, my eyebrow, my lips. He leans forward, his hips pressing me into the wall.

"Dylan, please."

"Let me enjoy my last first kiss, Isla."

I want to protest, insist that he can't possibly know I’m his last, but the fire burning for me in his eyes holds me captive, flames licking over my body, branding me. He tilts my face, brushing his lips over the corner of my mouth.

"Do you feel it?" He presses his forehead to mine.

"Like fate is holding her breath, waiting?" I whisper, my voice shaky.

"You two need to move it along,” a deep voice says, pulling us back to reality. Dylan takes a step back, turning to face the police officer.Heat rises like a tsunami, turning my cheeks crimson. The police officer winks at me, tipping his hat before continuing on his way.

"Oh my god. How embarrassing." I cover my cheeks with my hands, utterly mortified.

"We’ll have a good story to tell our kids one day,” he laughs, raking his hands through his hair.

"Dylan!"

"I'm teasing, Freckles." His eyes dance, the sun turning them amber. "Come on, we only have a couple of hours left."

My stomach twists. A couple of hours isn’t nearly enough. "Why don't we stay in the city tonight? As long as we leave early, I'll be back in time to open tomorrow."

"You’re sure?"

I study him, hearing the hesitation in his voice. "Are you trying to get rid of me that quickly?" I tease.

"I don't want to put you in a situation where you feel something more is expected of you."

"You’re the sweetest, Dylan. Thank you." He smiles, his hand enveloping mine as we head to the next pub.

The World’sEnd is ancient and dark. The calendar hanging just inside the door is jam-packed with events—everything from live music to karaoke to board game nights. We sit in a private corner booth with a clear view of the stage, where a DJ is busy setting up.

"Are you familiar with any of the hotels around here?" Dylan asks, handing me the menu.

"My friend owns Dores Inn, which is right on the banks of Loch Ness. They rent out a couple of rooms on the side. I can text her and see if she has one available."

"One?"

Oh god. Now I'm the one that's making him feel like I expect something fromhim."If–If that's okay with you?" I stammer.

"Sharing a hotel room with the girl of my dreams? How will I ever survive?" He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

Good beer and better conversation flow for hours until we find ourselves ending the night on stage singing “Islands in the Stream” at the top of our lungs. It’s perfect.

The roomat the inn is tiny, but perfect for one night. While I’m washing up, Dylan makes himself a spot on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I protest, weaving my hair into a loose braid.

“I can’t control myself in my sleep, Isla. I won’t take the chance that we wake up in a compromising position without meaning to.”

I swear, I fall a little more every time he opens his mouth. I turn off the lamp and strip down to my bra and panties, shivering as I slide between the cool sheets. The only light in the room is a sliver of moonlight slicing across the ancient floorboards.

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