“Sneaking around feels ridiculous. Going public means a whole lot of aggravation before we have any idea where this is going. I know we touched upon this before, but the truth is, I’ve missed you. I don’t know how else to say it.”
“I missed you too.” We stop walking, and he turns me so I’m facing him. He looks down into my eyes and then reaches out to put his hands on either side of my face. “There have been other women, I can’t lie about that, but you’re the only one who ever meant more than a good time.”
“Same for me,” I whisper.
We stare into each other’s eyes for a long time before he slowly lowers his head. His lips find mine gently and it’s like coming home. My arms slide up, winding around his neck while he pulls me against his chest.
At first, it’s a sweet game, nuzzling and nipping, keeping it chaste as we get reacquainted. His breath is warm against my mouth, and I melt into his embrace. I’ve dreamed about being in his arms again hundreds of times over the years, but reality is so much better.
“Jordan.” His name comes out in a breathy whisper, and his eyes open as he looks deep into mine.
“Right here, baby.” When he captures my lips this time, it’s possessive and hungry. He doesn’t rush but when the tip of his tongue meets mine, a fire is ignited. My skin heats, every nerve ending coming alive, and my mouth opens for him.
Our tongues clash together urgently, twisting and twirling in a sensual dance.
No one has ever kissed me like Jordan.
I dig my fingers into his hair, holding him close, desperate for more, as if this will never be enough. Because it won’t. I could never get enough of him in the past, and nothing has changed. The moment Jordan Palmer touches me, I’m a goner.
We kiss for a long time, the breeze blowing around us, moonlight illuminating the water. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world, and when we finally break apart, I know he feels it too.
“Fuck, but you’re sweet,” he says gruffly.
I rest my head against his chest and his arms close around me.
“I never want to move,” I whisper.
“I don’t want you to.” He kisses the top of my head. “I think we have to slow down, though.”
“I know.”
He pulls away slightly and lifts my chin. “I’m not playing games. I just want both of us to be safe. And you know what I mean by that.”
“I do.”
My father.
His hockey career.
How busy we both are.
We have a lot at stake, and this could go wrong in so many ways.
“I don’t want to think about all that, though,” I say. “I just want to…be with you. Spend time together. Figure out who we are as adults. If we’re still the same two kids who fell in love or if maybe we’ve outgrown what we thought was love at eighteen.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow touching you,” he murmurs.
“Same.” I smile up at him. “You got me all hot and bothered, Mr. Palmer.”
He moves my hand to his crotch, where there’s no mistaking his arousal. “Ditto.”
I playfully cup his erection, giving it a gentle squeeze, before moving my hand.
“There’s a game tomorrow night,” he says as we start to walk back toward the restaurant. “You want to go?”
I hesitate.
“What?” he asks.
