Page 48 of Forget Me Knot

I also really hate that my next thought is,Yikes! Emory is never gonna let me hear the end of this.I’m putting myself through a pretty extensive bit of mental turmoil when Jack’s hand travels from my waist, up my arms, and to my cheeks,where he cups them in his big hands and holds me like I’m something worth treasuring.

“Open your eyes, please.” His voice is gruff, but tender.

When I obey, it's that same tenderness I see as his clear hazel eyes search mine, looking for an answer I will certainly try my hardest to give him. Then, when he lowers his lips, slowly but confidently, he runs a delicate pattern of kisses across my mouth with such devotion, I don’t know why I let doubt ever creep into this brain. With the way he’s kissing me now, I can’t see myself ever regretting the way this morning has played out. Slumber parties are awesome.

It’s sweet, but sensual. Filled with all the words and questions and answers we can’t quite articulate but have all the time in the world to explore. I pull him just a little closer, echoing his need with my own, and let my fingers play where his hair meets the nape of his neck.

He’s the first to pull away, a smile on his lips and his forehead resting against mine. “Good morning, Dinah Belle.”

I peck his lips one more time and can’t help the giggle that escapes when he groans like he’s in pain.Kissing Ken.

“Good morning, Jackson.”

16

LOSE CONTROL

TEDDY SWIMS

JACK

I wake up groggy. Like I can't quite drag myself from sleep and am muddling through the waters of a really good dream. A hazy one. Warm, with freckled skin, easy smiles, and the scent of cinnamon and sugar filling the recesses of my mind.

Fumbling with the sheets sticking to my body, I lift myself from the bed and scoop upCatbefore he gets any ideas about using my pants as his litter box again. Though I’m growing used to his antics, I do not love the phase of cat parenting that is litter box training.

We spend the morning lazy, making coffee for me and setting out milk for the little guy. I read a bit, then shoot both Owen and Winnie quick texts to check in. I've been awake for over an hour before I realize I'm not sure what day it is and I haven’t noticed a single Post-it note.

How long was I out? How many days has it been since falling asleep to the sound of Dinah's voice as she read one of her romance books to me? The fact that I don’t have any signs orsymptoms of a lingering migraine tells me I’ve missed at least one day. Maybe more.

Meandering through the apartment, with Chipper nipping at my heels, I finally see the speck of highlighter-orange paper posted to the bathroom mirror.

Kissed Dinah.

Will again.

Send roses.

I stare at that offensive piece of paper, and all I see arehiswords, scribbled like every other note he's left over the past three years. Ranging from important doctor's appointments, rental property or Petals’ updates, and an epic breakup, to topics as ridiculous as what TV shows he's watching or how many reps we should put in at the gym.

But this time the words aren't mundane. They're potentially life-changing. Words I'd give anything to have written myself.

Kissed Dinah. Will again.

Those four simple words propel me forward without further care to the time or day of the week. I charge through my apartment, down the stairs, and barge through our shared door into Dinah's shop.

Something slow and moody plays over the radio, but Dinah's gasp of surprise as I amble towards her is the only soundtrack I'm concerned with. I’ve got a severe case of tunnel vision, and Dinah Knot is the only destination for my path.

“Jack,” she says on an exhale, but I don't give her the chance to take another breath before my mouth crashes into hers. She tastes just like I imagined she would. When her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, the scent that’s infiltrated every facet of my home and mind—warm bread, sugar, andbutter—swirls in a cloud around me, deepening the fog I’m already lost in.

I grab her waist, lifting her easily onto the counter and step between her legs. What I thought would nullify my absolute need for her has only intensified my drive to be closer. For more. Electricity hums between us with every push and pull of our lips meeting, mouths tangling, hands clenched so tight to her curves I never want to let go. She fists her hands in the front of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll get away, and if they’re any indication, I know I’m not alone in this.

I’d like to throw Dinah over my shoulder right now and carry her to the nearest pastor. Make this thing official. She’s so tiny and fits so perfectly in my hands. It’d be easy. I think I might do it.

A sharp catcall whips through the air, and I pull away to Dinah’s dazed, but deliciously flushed face staring at me. A small crowd of cheering sounds at my back and Dinah’s shaking fingers cover her lips, slowly transforming from shock to a bashful grin.

“I taught him all about that neckin’ last month!” a familiar voice shouts from across the room.

“I’ll testify, y’all. My Michael knows all about proper neckin’. Though I’d say it's more appropriate in private and preferably matrimonially.” Mrs. Cotten’s shrill voice sings her husband’s praises as the group of people in Knotty & Nice continue to laugh and cheer behind us.

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