“No one knows the future,” he says, a hint of something unspoken in his words.
“True. No one does.”
He removes the bread and onions from the grill, places the veggies on top of the melty cheese and sets the othertoasted piece of bread on top. Then he plates the sandwich.
“This sandwich is something I made up,” he explains. “I call it the triple threat.”
“You name your recipes?”
“No. I just made that up on the spot. It’s actually just gouda, cheddar and havarti with grilled veggies and hot honey on sourdough.”
“Triple threat.”
He smiles. I stare over at him. His eyes lock on mine. I’m not sure if I’m breathing. My vision’s all light and hazy. He affects me like no other man ever has.
“I really want to kiss you,” he says softly.
And if he thinks for one minute I forgot the first time he said that … No. He knows I remember.
“Then you should.” I repeat the same words I said that night—carefree and so very into him.
He leans across the corner of the island, cupping my chin between his pointer and thumb and looking into my eyes. Then his lids shut and his lips brush over mine. Something clatters to the floor. The butter knife? I run my hand down his jaw and rest it on his shoulder, kissing him softly, remembering him and discovering him. Greyson makes a soft noise from deep in his throat. I smile into our kiss.
He pulls back with a grin on his face. His hand moves to cup my jaw. Our eyes hold on to one another. My whole body zings. He slowly removes his hand from my cheek, trailing his fingers along my skin to prolong our connection.
When his hand drops, he says, “You should try your sandwich.”
“Okay.”
He glances around his kitchen. “Do you want water? I’ve got tea if you like that better.”
“Yes, please. Water’s fine.”
Are we just going to kiss and then eat, like we didn’t just rock one another’s worlds?
My head swirls. It’s been over six years since I’ve been kissed. My lips feel like they just came back from the dead.
Greyson picks the knife up off the floor and sets it in the sink, then he grabs a glass from a cabinet and pours me some water.
Maybe he goes around kissing women all the time. He’s so nonchalant right now.
I know he doesn’t, though. He’s far too private and principled to be cavalier about relationships.
How long has it been since he kissed anyone? Was it nine years? It can’t have been.
I take a bite of my sandwich and moan. “Oh my gosh. This is so good. Greyson. Wow.”
He nods, taking a bite of his. “I got this hot honey when I was visiting my folks in Nashville. When I got it home I didn’t know what to do with it. Tons of recipes online for chicken. But I wanted to try something different.”
“I love this.” I take another bite.
He beams, eating his sandwich right along with me.
“I’m going to crave this now,” I tell him, licking a dab of honey off my lips.
“You can come over anytime. I’ll make you one.”
“Anytime, huh?”
