He’s just Stone.
A young man who’s home for a weekend surrounded by people who love him, cherish him, and support him.
As the swing starts dwindling down to a stop, I realize I haven’t taken my eyes off him yet.
Worse yet, I’m authentically smiling. Teeth and all.
I fix my face before he opens his eyes, chastising myself as I hold my laptop to get up and go inside.
Stone grabs my wrist. “Wait, Lucy. You mentioned you wanted to set ground rules for our time here in Dasher Valley.”
Right. Of course I did.
“What did you have in mind?” he continues. His touch doesn’t let up, heating a branding ring around my wrist.
Maybe it’s the time.Nothing good happens after midnight, am I right?
Maybe it’s the innocent look of genuine care and concern in his eyes.They sure do sparkle under the hangingoutdoor porch lights.
Maybe it’s the loneliness I’ve been experiencing for quite some time, which has only gotten worse as everyone I know finally begins their own lives with husbands and kids.
Maybe it’s the hot, countryside air filling up the space under a misty moonlight…
“One rule,” I begin, swallowing a lump in my throat. I know the next words out of my mouth are a signature on a contract that I’ll regret signing come morning light. “Whatever happens in Dasher Valley stays in Dasher Valley. Are we clear?”
Stone’s lips twitch, a fraction of a smile forming. His eyes dance, two stormy blue pools of building desire. “That’s one rule I’ll willingly follow, Lucy May.”
Without thinking, my gaze drops to his full lips.
He tugs my arm, and I fall against the swing, gripping my laptop so it doesn’t crash onto the porch. He releases my wrist and takes the laptop from me, setting it onto the floor underneath the swing. When his eyes lock with mine again, something I had buried deep inside me awakens, clawing its way to the surface and begging to be set free.
I can’t tell who gives the final stamp of permission to move. Is it when his gaze flicks to my mouth as he mindlessly licks his top lip? Is it when my hand moves on its own accord, coming to a rest on his upper thigh as if to stake my territory?
Before I can so much as blink, his lips connect with mine as one hand tangles in my hair, tugging me into him as if he can’t get close enough. His other hand splays across my back, burning a hole through the thin fabric, and I tilt my head for a better angle. As he parts our lips, groaning into my mouth, sizzling electricity travelsdown to my toes. My head swims with his intoxicating taste, and if I could, I would crawl into his skin to know him fully and eternally.
I’ve never before been kissed likethis.
Feltlike this.
And I’d gamble to say it will never happen again.
Who would be so lucky as to experience getting their DNA re-written more than once in a lifetime?
Visions swim in my head, much like when I’m writing a story, as we give into months of building attraction.
Stone and I tangled in plaid sheets. A royal ball. Stone, in a tux, carrying me over the threshold of a doorstep while I wear a white gown. Me writing at a desk in an unknown house. Stone throwing a baseball with one boy while tossing a football with the other. Twin boys. A book I haven't written on the big screen.
Explosions.
I throw myself backwards, which forces the swing to move, flinging me off and onto my butt on the wooden planks of the porch. From my lowered position, I stare up at Stone, who’s breathless and already standing, steadying the swing from its wild movements before it swings back to hit me. He reaches out his hand, and all I can think about is how moments ago he had it tangled in my hair, delivering the best kiss of my existence.
I knew he’d be good.
But notthatgood.
When I don’t take his hand because my brain is still fuddled with his kiss, he sits down on the porch beside me. All of the twisting and swirling feelings inside me dance around, asking—no begging—for more of him, when he casuallyfingers the stray hairs that have fallen in front of my face. I release a deep breath in an attempt to regain composure, and he tucks the hair behind my ear, fingertips caressing the sensitive skin.
“Lucy…”
