“I guess I could. I’dliketo. In fact, I’d do just about anything to avoid having him be the one to fix them.”
“Why don’t you just keep them the way they are? You look cute with jacked-up teeth.”
Ashley gasps and smacks my arm. “I can't believe you just said I have jacked-up teeth."
I smile at her, unabashed. She’s so cute when she goes into defensive mode like this. "What wouldyoucall it?" I ask.
"Chipped,” she says. “I chipped my teeth. That doesn’t mean they’re all jacked-up." Only she's covering her mouth, something she seems to do each time she remembers the small hole where the tops of her lower front teeth used to be.
I study her for a blink, lowering her hand before moving my thumb along her bottom lip for a better view. Dang, she's beautiful. Even more beautiful than she was when we were young.
My lips part, but I'm not sure what I was about to say because suddenly, all I can think about is those full and pouty lips of hers, of how badly I want to kiss them.
I lower my head the slightest bit and the urge multiplies. I lift my hand and grasp a lock of her hair between my finger and thumb. Slowly then, I glide all the way down to the tip before letting it slip away. There goes that sweet scent of her, drawing me in, making me want more.
"Liam?" Ashley lifts her chin, eyes half-closed and dreamy. “I’m glad I came to this thing. Glad you're here too.”
“Me too.” I press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, then give in to a low whimper like a pleading pup. “I’m sure this goes without saying,” I add, my nerves threatening to silence me. “But I want to explore things between us again. I hope that that’s what you want, too.”
Please, Ashley, just say that it is.I need to know I’m not a fool for putting myself out here, for letting my feelings for her spring back like a boomerang.
At last, she nods, glides her lips gently over mine, and whispers against them, “That’s exactly what I want.” And then her mouth is back on mine, kissing me like she’s been longing for it as much as I have.
We’re off to a very good start. And though it’s risky to get involved, I know deep down that Ashley is worth the risk. I can only hope that this time, I won’t be left with another broken heart.
Ashley
Holy heavens, this man can kiss.
That’s the thought in the back of my mind as Liam lures me onto my side until we’re lying on top of the sleeping bag. Or maybe I lured him down here since I seem to be gripping his shirt again.
All I know is that we’re fighting to get closer, moving into the small spaces between us and sinking back into a rhythm that feels oh, so right.
I consider what he said—that he’d like to explore things between us, that he hopes I want that too. It’s his way of saying he wants more than just this. For Liam, that’s just what I came to expect so many years ago. He was never one to see how far he could go with a girl just because he could. Even back then, he had a strong moral compass, and that in itself is attractive, admirable, and rare.
Knowing where our limits lie, I enjoy the bliss of being held in his strong arms. Enjoy the passion behind each spellbinding push and pull of his glorious mouth and the feel of that short stubble along his chiseled jaw. I’m free to enjoy the combined safety and thrill of being with a real man. One who, after all this time, after everything we’ve been through, is choosing me once again.
I hope this time, we can make it last.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ashley
As we prepare to head out—tearing down tents, loading up cars, and tidying the campsite—a memory comes to mind.
Not one of those passing memories either. It’s the sort that plays out in vivid detail from beginning to end.
When I was nine years old, Annica and I spent a week with our grandparents on Mom’s side. It was before Grams died, so Nini wasn't in the picture yet.
We had the treat of helping watch our baby cousin Thomas. He was the sweetest, chubby-cheeked little boy with bright shining eyes and a smile that could melt hearts from across the room.
I remember being so enamored, so overwhelmed with joy, when he would meet my gaze and then smile because ofme.
Bath time for the little guy was a family affair when Grams, Annica, and I gathered along the side of the tub with squeaky toys to keep him entertained.
One night, Grams left Annica and me in charge, emphasizing that we couldnotstep away from Thomas for even a momentbecause, even though the water was shallow, he could drown. She’d be back in a few minutes, she promised, and we could get him out then.
I always loved that part. His doughy skin dripping wet and scented with the sweet baby soap we squirted into the tub. We’d wrap him up in his cozy, fluffy, dinosaur towel with the hood, and he’d rub a clumsy fist over his face, a sign that he was sleepy, Grams said.
