I lift a brow, thinking it’s counterproductive if she’s already a pushover.
“Not to what other people want,” she amends. “To the thingsIwant, but I’m too…afraid to go out and get them.”
I love what I'm hearing. Love it, because it speaks to me too. In fact, it helps me identify whatIwant to do at this very moment.
My gaze drops to her pretty smile, and heaven help me, but Ashley’s gaze drops, too. Something tells me she wants exactly what I want at this moment and that we’re both battling the fear she just talked about. Fear of moving too fast or messing this up. Giving in to an urge like this is a risk; there's no telling if she and I could make things work. But why not take this chance and test theonething we know wedohave in spades: chemistry.
That chemistry becomes the only thing I feel. It’s a breathing, growing presence as we collectively lean in, ever so slowly, gauging each other as we close the gap.
My lower belly burns with desire, similar to how it did when we were young, but more intense now. This mature, experiencedside of Ashley is incredibly attractive. A woman like her isn’t going to fool around with someone just for the heck of it. In fact, I doubt she’d let any other man get this close to her.
She’s also the very woman I craved for years after the breakup. The one I spent tortured nights dreaming about. I even tried bartering with God as if I had some sort of pull—if He’d bring her back to me, I promised I’d cherish her forever.
And now, here she is before me, a free woman, and I’m a free man. She’s close and warm and willing to meet me halfway as I lean closer, even still.
I remember how silky her skin was along the side of her neck, how I always cradled her there when we kissed, relishing the fact that she was mine.
I lift my hand, tentative at first, until Ashley cups my knee to steady herself. At her touch, I exhale a raspy sigh and slide that hand right where it belongs, reveling in the fact that she’s really here, really with me, really wanting to explore this path, too.
I barely brush her lips, then pause to savor her tangy-sweet scent, her softness, hereverything.
The heat between us sparks and snaps, begging to be tested, and I’m ready to oblige.
I move back in for another taste, pleased when she lifts her chin and parts her lips. She exhales a breathy whimper before our lips lock in a full, gratifying kiss.
So good.A warm, pleasurable sensation pulls at my lower belly as I kiss her again and again. Long, lingering kisses that make me feel young and hungry.
The passion grows stronger like the tide, and just as I’m riding that perfect wave, wanting to glide my mouth along her earlobe and sample that spot, too, I remember how little of her I know right now.
Too fast. Definitely too fast.
She must agree because we both seem to slow our pace at once. The thing is, that does little to tamp down the passion. In fact, with our mouths still engaged, the movements now low and slow, it’s way more sensual.
Sweet mercy! Just a minute more…
There,I tell myself. That’s good for now. Sure, I’m hungry for more, but just as she’s grown and matured, I have too. I want more from her than the physical side of things. I want more of her witty quips and easy banter. More conversation that shows me just who she’s become and how she is now as a divorced mother of two.
We put an end to the kiss at last, and a groan sounds deep in my throat.
“Okay,” I say with a chuckle under my breath. “I think we can put a green check by that box too.”
Ashley widens her eyes innocently. “Next towhatbox?”
I glance down at the grip she still has on the front of my T-shirt. “Nice try.”
She nods and releases my shirt, smoothing the thin fabric over my abs before pulling back completely.
“Itwasa nice try, I thought,” she says. “And yes, we’ve earned one more checkmark tonight. Chemistry still present? Check.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ashley
Liam and I talk for another hour or so before I start to worry that Lucy might still be up and coming to conclusions in that seventeen-year-old brain of hers.
We make our way back to camp, whispering softly and milking our time with slow, lazy paces. As we part ways at the tent, he reaches over and presses a warm, lingering kiss to my cheek.
“Sweet dreams, Ashley,” he says in a whisper against my skin. “Don’t forget me.”
