Page 80 of On One Condition

Minute by minute. Day by day. Memory by memory.

And I think a huge part of it is having Ledger here to talk about him with.

As we approach the blanket, he stops when I squeeze his hand. “This was very thoughtful of you and just what I needed. Thank you.” I step up on my toes and press a kiss to his lips. His hands slide up the length of my spine before fisting in the hair at my neck as he deepens the kiss.

My body reacts to his touch, to his lips, to everything about him in a way I don’t remember doing for anybody else before. Nothing is ever enough. His touch. The groans of pleasure in the back of his throat. The feel of his muscles tensing beneath my palms as I run my hands up and down the plane of his chest.

“If that’s what I get for a picnic in a field, you can bet your ass I’ll be planning something more elaborate next time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ledger

Fifteen Years Ago

“A shooting star. Look.” I point to the last remnants of it as it dies out with its fall.

“Make a wish,” Asher says, squeezing my fingers currently laced with hers.

“That’s ridiculous. No one believes that shit.”

“Fine. Then I’ll make one for you.”

“Go ahead.”

I turn my head so I can look at her. We’re lying on a blanket in the middle of the lavender fields staring at the stars. Or at least she is while I’m trying to figure out when to make a move. A guy only has so much restraint when the girl he’s with is like Asher—gorgeous, funny, unique.

A girl who looks at me like I’m a normal boy instead of the prep-school trust-fund kid whose father is part of New York City’s elite.

Hell, she’s never asked for a damn thing. Not once. I have girls back home asking for fancy shit when they can afford it themselves. And then there’s Asher who has nothing and asks for nothing. If she did, I’d give it to her in a heartbeat. Without question. It’s not like Dad ever checks what we spend money on anyway.

If he did, we’d be majorly screwed for all the money we shelled out for beer on this trip.

Asher closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose. It’s freaking adorable.

“What’d you wish for?” I ask when her nose un-scrunches. Apparently, that’s her wish-making face.

“I’m not telling you.” She swats playfully at me, but her eyes remain fixed on the sky above. “If I do, it won’t come true.”

“C’mon. I wanna know.” What does a girl like Asher wish for?

“No.”

“Pretty please?” I lean up on my elbow so I can stare at her and so she can’t ignore me.

“No.”

“Ah, there’s a smile,” I say, putting my hand on her hip and rocking her back and forth. “You know you want to tell me.”

“I need the wish more than you want me to tell you,” she says drolly.

“You need it?” I draw the word out. “Then that means it’s me, right? Since you need me.”

“Oh, geez.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you seriously just say that?”

“Yes. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

She pats the top of my hand still on her hip. “For your ego’s sake, I’ll keep letting you think that.”