Page 33 of Kissed and Missed

He touched my hair, and—lord, help me—I’m not sure I’ve had a kiss that has affected me as much as this man’s casual touch. I feel all lit up inside, and even after minutes have passed, I’m hyperaware of the lock of hair Julian resecured, as if I can feel his touch lingering on it.

“Will you drive me to the airport in the morning?” I demand out of nowhere, my chest aching at the reminder that, after tomorrow, I’ll probably never see this man again. It’s silly to ask, especially since it was his driver who got me in the first place, but Julian doesn’t hesitate.

“Of course I will.”

Of course he will.

Unable to help myself, I peek over at Julian’s handsome profile, hungry for every memory of him I can get. In sixteen hours, we’ll return to our normal lives and this time together will be a blip in the timeline. That’s how it should be. So why does it feel like my heart is about to break?

“Honor?” Heat rushes to my cheeks as Julian turns to catch me looking at him. His jaw tightens.

I shake myself. “Sorry. Spaced out.” And I scramble to my feet, brushing sand from my butt and the backs of my legs.

I don’t realize Julian is on his feet, too, until I look back at him, intending to say I’m heading inside. When I find him standing only a few feet away, staring right back at me, the words don’t come.

Why couldn’t we have met some other way?

Why couldn’t I have been older, or he be younger?

Why did he have to be Riley’s dad?

Deciding I need to leave before I do something I regret, like throw myself at him, I turn toward the house. I’ve only made it a single step, however, when a large, warm hand locks firmly around my wrist.

I’m not quite sure how it happens. One second, I’m looking at the house, and the next I’m facing the complete opposite direction pressed against a hard male chest. I have a glimpse of bright, intelligent eyes, and then Julian Ballard is kissing me.

It’s not tentative or teasing. This man kisses mehard, like he’s been starving for it, and I respond automatically, my lips parting for him, and my arms flying around his neck. God, I think I’ve been starving for him too. Days of smiles and laughter, days of growing closer to this person we have no business growing closer to, have brought us to this.

Julian groans as my tongue darts out, skimming over his bottom lip. I want to remember this. If this is the only time, and I know it will be, I need to memorize every single detail.

My body bows with his as we sway on the spot, devouring each other, and a weight drops into my core as I realize what the hard length pressing against my stomach is.He’s hard. He’s hard, and I’m wet, and this has already gone too far but I don’t want to stop.

I’m not sure how long we stand there, holding each other as our kiss fades from a raging storm to slow and reverent, but there is a brand-new ache in the center of my chest when we break apart.

“I had to.” Julian’s voice is so low I can barely hear it above the crash of the waves. “Once.”

I nod in understanding, but neither of us moves to step away. Beneath my palm, his heart thuds heavily, and I can feel his breath with each rise and fall of his chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know what I’m doing.Remembering this.

“If things were different, I wouldn’t let you leave,” Julian admits, and the words sound rough, as though he has to work to get them out.

I try my best to smile but can’t quite manage it. “If things were different, I would stay.”

20

HONOR

PRESENT

When I wake up on February fourteenth, the very first thing I see makes me smile.

There’s a cheap, cheesy stuffed bear sitting on the otherwise empty pillow beside mine, and I reach out to take it. Rolling over, I hold it up to take in the finer details of the gift. A small, stuffed satin heart is sewn between the animal’s fuzzy paws, embroidered with the words “You’re Beary Cute”.

He remembered.

The muscles in my cheeks ache as I sit up. Looking around the room, I see Julian—who can’t seem to help himself but be the best at literally everything—didn’t stop there. Sitting on the long, glossy cabinet across from the bed, three bouquets of long stem red roses are arranged along with several boxes of chocolates and a card.

Totally naked, I crawl to the end of the bed and stand, heart fluttering like a trapped bird inside my chest as I pick up the crisp, folded paper decorated with dozens of different watercolor hearts.

Honor,

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