“Good. So tell me more. What do I like? What are my dreams? What do you like? What do you want?”
I shake my head. “Tell you the story of the world in five minutes?”
“Pretty much.” He smiles and I have the urge to reach up and run my hands through his hair.
“Hmm. Well.” I tap my chin with my finger and think about what I know. “You like the outdoors and hiking.”
He considers this. “I thought so.”
“You’re well-read, you know a lot about the world. You have the accent you do because you traveled the country with your mom in the circus.”
“Do I ever talk about traveling? Finding another job? Do I ever dream about us picking up and going somewhere else?”
I look right into Gavin’s clear blue eyes and say, “No. You like your job. You love it here. You said you never wanted to leave.”
His eyes flicker down to my mouth and then back up to my eyes. “I think you’re right. All that traveling as a kid must’ve made me appreciate staying still. Right now, I think I could happily spend the rest of my life right here.”
I stare at him, eyes wide, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at my lips. The crickets are still going, but now, my heart’s pounding louder than they’re chirping. My lips tingle.
“Jamie, one more question.”
“Hmm?” I sway toward him.
His eyes glow in the starlight when he asks, “How long has it been since we kissed?”
I don’t answer, because he leans forward, reaches up, drags his hands through my hair, and pulls my mouth to his.
I gasp at the sensation of his warm lips on mine and when I do he runs his tongue over my bottom lip. His hands grip the back of my head, pressing me to him, and he devours my mouth. He tastes like honey and cornbread and I realize he’s biting my lips, licking me like he’s relishing the most delicious meal he’s ever had. When he groans, low and urgent, a flood of warmth travels through me. My hips fall open and when he slips his tongue in my mouth there’s an answering pulse down low. I suck on him and he groans again, tugging me closer.
“Jamie,” he whispers against my mouth.
I whimper, mindless except for the sensation of his lips against mine. The slick feel of his tongue running over my lips, the invasion of him in my mouth. I dig my fingers into his shoulders. I can’t think when he’s kissing me like this. It’s like the six years without a kiss or a touch has made my kindling so dry that I combust into mindless lust at one touch. Just like someone who has lost their tolerance for alcohol, I’m drunk on him.
He pushes me down to the planks of the deck. The wood digs into my back, but then Gavin settles on top of me and I’m not thinking about wood planks or splinters or anything but him pressing into me. Right there.
He tugs on my hair and I open my mouth wider. He groans and his tongue tangles with mine. I wrap my arms around him and then he reaches down, lifts up my pajama shirt and brushes his fingers over me.
My eyes fly open and I see stars. Not the stars in the sky, but stars from the sensation of him petting me. He makes a noise when he feels how wet I am.
“All that from our kiss?” He stares down at me, completely dumbfounded.
Then he decides that he’s done talking, because he puts his mouth back to mine and circles his finger over me. I’d like to say that I’m rational, that I’m thinking. But I’m not. I’m just feeling. I’m running on pure instinct and right now my instinct is telling me that if I don’t touch every bit of Gavin, if I don’t keep kissing him, or feeling his hands on me, that I’ll regret it. I’ll regret it forever.
So when his fingers find my entrance, I grip his shoulders and open to him. He swears when he feels me tighten around him. I’m a bundle of sensation, I’m a flaming, vibrating ball of need. And when he sticks two fingers inside me and flicks my clit, that’s all it takes. I convulse around him. He makes a shocked noise, realizes I’m already there. Then he keeps pumping his fingers, wringing more and more out of me. He sucks on my mouth, captures my cries like he’s greedy for them. And keeps petting me and stroking me until he’s wrung every last drop of feeling out of me. Until I finally fall from the stars and back down to earth, to land, out of breath, in his arms.
I blink and stare up at him. He smiles, pulls my shirt back down, and kisses me on the lips. “You’re beautiful when you come.”
I flush, and when he sees it, even in the dark, he smiles. “Is it like that every time we kiss?”
I blink and try to shake out of the drunken stupor his lips put me in. “It’s…uh…it’s…like that every time we’ve done it.”
He smirks, looking extraordinarily proud. He kisses the edge of my mouth. “Thank you.”
A cold feeling trickles over me. “For what?”
“I figure you’re worried about being intimate when I don’t remember our past. Thank you for trusting me.” He kisses the other side of my mouth.
I turn my head and stare out at the woods. That’s the problem. I don’t trust him. And he definitely shouldn’t trust me.