Page 118 of Say You Remember Me
“Is that a bad thing?” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to the spot just below my ear.
“Not at all,” I whispered, smiling as I turned my head slightly to catch his gaze.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thickening, charged with unspoken words neither of us seemed ready to say.
And then Ian closed the distance between our lips and kissed me.
Slowly at first, his lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that made my knees weak. My breath hitched as I turned toward him, my hands finding the front of his shirt to steady myself. But when I kissed him back—deeper, more certain—something shifted.
His hands slid up from my hips to my waist, pulling me flush against him as the kiss grew more passionate, more consuming. A low moan escaped him, almost like he’d been holding back and couldn’t anymore. I felt the counter at my back as he moved closer, the space between us disappearing entirely.
He reached out, sweeping a box aside on the counter with a soft scrape of cardboard, and before I knew it, his hands gripped my waist again—strong, steady—and lifted me effortlessly. I let out a quiet gasp as he set me on the counter, my legs naturally bracketing his hips as he stepped between them, his mouth never leaving mine.
And then there was nothing but the kiss. The heat of it. The way his hands roamed—up my thighs, over my waist, to cup my face as if he couldn’t decide where to touch me next because he wanted it all.
My fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to feel more of him, to explore. My hands skimmed over his shoulders, down the broad planes of his chest, and I ached to slip them beneath the fabric, to feel the hard muscles beneath his bare skin.
His lips traveled down to the corner of my mouth, along my jaw, before finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. A soft sigh escaped me, and I tilted my head, giving him more access as a deep flutter built low in my stomach.
But then?—
Footsteps. Small ones. On the porch.
Grant.
Reality snapped back into place like a splash of cold water, and we both froze, our breathing heavy and uneven as we broke apart like two guilty teenagers about to get caught sneaking around.
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered, my cheeks blazing as I slid off the counter in a rush. I straightened my shirt, smoothed my hair, and shot Ian a wide-eyed look as if to say,What just happened?
Ian scrubbed a hand over his face and took a step back, looking equally disheveled and entirely too attractive for his own good.
The screen door creaked, and Grant came bounding into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the lingering heat in the air.
“Mom! I just saw an eagle!” he burst out, his face alight with pure excitement as he pointed back outside.
“An eagle? That’s amazing!” I said, my voice pitching a little too high as I quickly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear—desperately trying to look like I hadn’t been just seconds away from ripping Ian’s shirt off.
“It washuge!” Grant spread his arms as wide as they could go, practically bouncing on his toes. “Like, this big!”
“That’s awesome, bud,” Ian said, his voice smooth and casual—far steadier than mine—as he reached out to ruffle Grant’s hair. “Eagles don’t show up every day, so you’ve got pretty great timing.” Then with a teasing grin, he glanced at me and added under his breath, “Honestly, the kid’s got a knack for showing up exactly when I shouldn’t be trusted.”
“Ian!” I hissed, shooting him a scandalized look that was half-laughter, half-plea.
He shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “I’m just saying…”
I glanced quickly at Grant, who, thankfully, had his nose pressed against the window again, scanning the sky for his elusive eagle. I let out a small breath of relief, but Ian’s grin only widened, sending another rush of warmth straight through me.
Yeah,great timing, I thought wryly. But maybe,hopefully,someday soon we’d find time—real time—where we wouldn’t get interrupted.
And if Ian kept looking at me the way he was looking at me now?
Well, I was pretty sure I’d have no complaints about how that time would be spent.
44
IAN
The sharp,clean snap of my cufflinks echoed faintly in the quiet of the groomsmen’s room as I finished buttoning my tuxedo jacket. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror—dark suit, white shirt, black bow tie—but all I could think about was Maddie.
