“Asher,” she whispers, turning in my arms and searching my eyes. What for? Not sure, but she’s not stepping back, which is a big deal . . . and she remembers my name.
“Mystery girl.” My smile widens at her reaction. Soft smile, pretty, glimmering eyes, and flushed, rosy cheeks. Just like I remember, except better somehow.
“Mystery girl, huh?” she asks, not moving one bit now. My fingers dig deeper into her hips, willing her to move, and she takes the unspoken cue. Even though the thunderous beat vibrates through the speaker, my eyes and ears are laser focused on her.
“What else was I supposed to call you? You never told me your name.”
“I didn’t think you were real,” she whispers, and I open my arms, showing her my body.
“I am. In the flesh.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Permission to touch?”
As if she couldn’t be any more perfect already, asking for permission does it. I nod, allowing her to do as she wants. Her hands graze my chest tentatively, as if I’m a ticking bomb she’s trying to defuse. She’s more on point than she thinks, proceeding with caution, but damn it if I don’t want to be reckless and allow her to touch as much as she wants.
Her fingers continue to my neck and my tense jaw. I didn’t know I was clenching it until she caresses my jawline gently.
“You shaved,” she whispers, not stopping her fingers as they ghost over my phantom mustache delicately. Her fingertips feel like soft feathers over my skin, and it’s too much.
Too much.
My hands grip hers, changing their trajectory and placing them on my shoulders instead.
“I did.” I didn’t tell her anything particular about me, just my name, and I want it to stay that way. Nobody calls me Asher, so it makes it even more special, as if it was just me and her in this moment, a reality where only we exist.
“Where did your glasses go?” she asks, tracing my eyebrows.
“Contacts.” I’m lost in her eyes, in the deep gray of them. They look like the ocean, salt kissed, impossible to forget. “You still haven’t told me your name, beautiful.”
“Did your voice change? It’s deeper now.”
She might be deflecting, but she’s not wrong. It does sound deeper. Twenty, too young to drink but old enough to go to war. Twenty, too young to rent a car but old enough to parent a child or carry a gun. This is backwards as fuck and always has been.
“You just remember it wrong,” I reply, turning her body and drawing her back flush against me. I’m afraid she’ll see right through me if I don’t put some sort of distance between us, but I don’t want there to be any. I just need a second to compose myself and not give her the shy kid she got last time.
She drags her nails up my thighs, leaving pure fire behind, even if there’s zero contact with my skin. We both shiver when her ass grinds back against my hard dick. Her skin breaks into goosebumps under my touch, and the air leaves my lungs as if I was underwater and I need air. I need her.
“Have you been thinking about me too, mystery girl?” I whisper against the shell of her ear. I can feel the smile on her face even if I can’t see it, and almost as if she was psychic, she tilts her head back and shows me. The most wicked smile I’ve ever seen steals the oxygen from my lungs—and my dick—once more.
“Why don’t we get out of here and I’ll show you how much?” Shit. I lace my fingers with hers, and she starts walking right back to where we were a year ago. Back to the giant bathroom tucked in the hallway.
She opens the door before I can offer to do it for her and steps to the side to allow me in. She’s not looking at anything but what’s in front of her, so I guess she’s not even a little bit worried people might know why we’re both in the bathroom. The door shuts tight behind her, and she rises up on her tiptoes to kiss me.She doesn’t touch me with anything but her lips, but fuck that. I want to touch. I want to touch everything.
I want to see if her nipples are as hard as I thought they were last time. I want to trace her slim back all the way to the curve of her ass barely hidden by that lace fabric. I want to inhale her whole and make her mine, even if I don’t know her name.
Sweet, soft lips taste faintly of grapes and lust as they kiss me, and it’s better than I remember. My hands roam her back, pulling her closer as I walk us back toward the bathroom door. I turn the latch, making sure it’s locked before I gently push her body against the door. She gasps into my lips.
“You have no clue how often I’ve thought about your lips on mine again. About your citrusy scent invading my senses again.”
“Is this what was hiding underneath the shy boy persona? This possessive man who tells me his thoughts and doesn’t simplify everything to a one word question?” she sasses.
I turn her around, pinning her arms above her head with one hand and tracing the round ass in front of me with the other. “This possessive man will spank this perfect ass if you keep sassing me like that.” My voice is rough against her neck.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to do last year, but I had to control myself. How do we feel about that? Huh?” I kiss her gently.
“How I feel about what?” she murmurs, her voice doing more to me than my wildest dreams. “Sassing you, or you spanking my ass for being mouthy?”
I groan. “Both.”
