So he did.
This time it was slower, deeper. No audience, no point to prove. Just them in the cold parking lot, the snow starting to fall again, everything else fading away.
Riley's back hit her car, and Grant pressed closer, his hands sliding into her hair. She made a soft sound against his mouth, and it undid him. He groaned. His hands found the curve of her waist, sliding under her coat, and Riley gasped.
"Grant—"
"Too much?"
"Not enough."
He kissed her harder, deeper, years of wanting pouring into it. Riley's hands were everywhere—his shoulders, his chest, sliding under his jacket. When her fingers found the hem of his shirt, Grant groaned against her mouth.
"We're in a parking lot," he managed.
"I know."
"Anyone could see."
"I don't care."
Grant pulled back just enough to look at her—lips swollen, eyes dark, cheeks flushed from the cold and wanting. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"We should stop," he said, even though stopping was the last thing he wanted.
"Probably."
But neither of them moved. Riley's fingers traced the line of his jaw, just grazing his stubble, and Grant turned his face into her palm, kissing it.
"Sorry," Riley said finally, her laugh breathless. "Got carried away there."
"Don't apologize. Brad deserved it."
"He did, didn't he?" Riley's smile turned playful. "You really shut him down."
"That was the goal."
"Mission accomplished." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "You know, you weren't lying."
"About what?"
"About being a better kisser now." Her eyes held his. "You really, really weren't lying."
Grant's laugh was rough. "I've had ten years to think about kissing you again. Had to make it count."
"Oh, it counted."
They stood there, neither wanting to break the moment. Riley's hands were still fisted in his jacket, Grant's arms locked around her waist.
"I should go," Riley said finally, though she made no move to step back.
"Yeah."
"It's late."
"It is."
"And if I don't leave now, I'm going to do something stupid."
