Page 13 of Niall

“Then I’ll stay as close as you want.”

“You stop the memories.”

“Good.” He eased back. “I’ll get you more water.”

“Okay.”

“Go back to bed. You’re shivering again.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell him it was because of how he made me feel. Nodding, I turned and climbed into the big bed. He followed a moment later, handing me the water glass. I sipped it, shutting my eyes as the cold water slid down my throat.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever take that for granted again.”

“You will,” he assured me. “And that will be a good thing. It means you will be forgetting that time in your life. Moving forward.”

He slid in beside me, holding the comforter up until I lay on his chest. He pulled me close, tucking the soft material around us. I sighed as my body relaxed immediately. His arm around me held me tight to his body, and his heat sank into my skin. I traced circles on his arm, and he flexed then relaxed.

“You kissed me earlier.”

“I know.”

“I liked it.”

I felt his smile. “So did I.”

“It was my first kiss.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“Well, unless you count the attempted lip-lock Tommy Jones tried on me when I was thirteen.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest and shaking me a little.

“How can you not have been kissed before?” he asked. “You’re the same age as Una, right?”

“I’m twenty-six. Two years younger.”

“Still,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful. It seems impossible.”

“I was always busy as a kid and a teenager,” I explained, surprised how unembarrassed I was talking to him about this. “No time for dating like other kids. I was always busy at the campground.”

“No crushes? Visiting handsome young campers?” he teased.

I laughed. “After the Tommy experience, I wasn’t really interested. And when my brother died, I was sad for a long time, and there was even more work. After Dad died and it was only the two of us, life was busier than ever. When my mom got sick, I cared for her until she died, then I was grieving again. I lived a fairly isolated life, and there was never much opportunity to date, so…” I trailed off.

He was quiet for a moment. “That wasn’t a real kiss,” he announced.

I lifted my head. “It wasn’t? It felt like your mouth on mine.”

“I mean it wasn’t how I would kiss you if you wanted me to kiss you.”

Silence hung between us. “How would you kiss me?” I asked, aware my breathing had picked up. The way his chest was pumping, I knew his had as well.

He shifted, rolling slightly so we were face-to-face. “Are you sure?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

He cupped my face, stroking along my cheek with his thumb. “So beautiful,” he murmured. He smoothed his hand to the back of my neck, caressing the nape gently. I shivered in anticipation. Our eyes locked, and I saw a brand-new emotion in his gaze—lust. Desire.