Ian stiffens. Eyes narrowing, a muscle in his jaw tics. Regardless, he looks mouthwatering. Jeans mold to his thick thighs. The T-shirt does little to hide his well-muscled frame, hugging his broad shoulders and trimmed waist. There’s nothing casual about the drool gathering in my mouth at the sight of him, though.
Thank god for small mercies, because as soon as I see the gym bag, I remember he’s a football player and surely heading to practice with my dad. The reminder swiftly douses the desire.
As if that wasn’t enough, there’s nothing like the guy who said you were the most beautiful girl now looks at you as if you’re gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I didn’t change that much, did I? It’s been four years, not fifty. And screw him.
“Morning,” I say with cheer, forcing my lips into a big smile.
“Morning,” he grumbles.
We move to the elevator, waiting in stilted silence. The tension rises around us. It’s a wonder neither of us chokes on the heavy air.
I sense him watching me, and I jab my finger on the button, urging the elevator to hurry.Come on, already.
“It won’t get here sooner, even with your assault.” His deep voice ending on a husky note, has butterflies flapping their wings against my rib cage.
From the corner of my eye, I watch him. His features seem even sharper than before—angular nose, high cheekbones, and cut jaw. He has those thick, curled lashes that all girls want. Even his brows have the perfect arched form, as if his features are painted to add a touch of ruggedness to his handsome face. No physical flaws. I remember vividly digging my nails into that tight ass as he fucked me into another dimension. From top to bottom and from bottom to top, Ian is the embodiment of physical perfection.
“Take a good look. We don’t want you to strain your neck,” he says smugly.
I open then close my mouth, feeling my cheeks warm. Thankfully, the elevator doors open, and I dash inside with my nose stuck up. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I conjured him that night. The guy in front of me is not sweet. He’s arrogant and calling out my weakness.
We both go to press the button and a zap shoots through me, awakening my senses from their comatose existence.No, you indulged once. That’s enough. But not a cell in me seems to agree.
He smells so good—a heady blend of bergamot and something woodsy and clean. That scent could put the entire female population on their backs. I take another sniff. I must inhale, right? It’s biology and I can’t hold my breath for longer than thirty seconds. It’s earthy and masculine. The type of smell that’s not too much, just enough to want to smell it on repeat.
I catch him glancing at the side of my face.
Emboldened by that, I sass. “Take a pic. It will last longer.”
He arches a thick brow, seemingly unimpressed. “I expected something more original.”
Before I can reply, he plucks out his phone and takes a photo of me.
He puts it in my face, showing the not-so-flattering pic of me looking like a blotched fish gasping for air.Awesome.
Reaching the lobby, the elevator doors slide open, and he gestures for me to go out first. The gentlemanly gesture reminds me of that night. Cursed to relive that time as the highlight of my romantic life.
“Such a gentleman,” I mumble, full on petty that he forgot about me.
His eyes twitch, and I almost believe he remembers me and our night together. I thought we shared something special. I guess I was wrong.
Outside, a heat wave rolls over my skin, the end of summer bringing with it the hottest days.
I watch him walk toward a black Range Rover, which looks like a dark beast on wheels. Of course mine is parked next to his. My Mini looks like a toy car in comparison.
When I open my door, I catch the intention of a smile on his handsome face.
“What? I don’t need to overcompensate for anything.”
He pats his chest in faux offense, winking at me. “Oh, Lilly, we both know I don’t need to either.”
Suddenly, I feel hot. The sexual innuendo goes straight between my thighs, creating an ache.
He climbs in and takes off, leaving me dumbfounded. So, he remembers. The dick. Maybe I hurt him the way I left, with no explanation. I was so sure it was just a stolen moment, and we’d go our separate ways, that I didn’t consider his perspective. A one-night stand isn’t supposed to be life-changing. One time with someone is not meant to mean more, right?
Wrong. Four years later, my past just crashed into my present, causing a tectonic shift, leaving me despondent. I don’t know what to do.
I try to stay focused on the drive to the store, unscathed by the horns blaring from behind me at every traffic light. People have no patience in traffic. Their only goal is to catch the light turning green as if missing that nanosecond would have catastrophic consequences.
