“Do you remember the night it snowed?” he asks.
Of course I remember it. We’d spent every night in the hot tub, and there was only one night when it had started snowing while we were out there. The hot water, the cold snowflakes, and the cheap champagne made for a deeply romantic evening.
I nod, acknowledging his question, and although I’m looking at Miles now in the present, I’m also back in the hot tub in Aspen. Snowflakes landing on our water-warmed skin as he peeled my wet bikini off my body. The water bubbling across my hips as I straddled him, rocking myself against him with his full length inside me. The way he never broke eye contact with me for one second of it. The way he kissed me, like I was the only woman on earth who had ever existed to him.
Is that what he wanted me to remember?
As if I could forget it.
The memory has the intended effect, or at least I assume it’s the intended effect. My body is craving Miles now, gnawing at my insides, begging for his touch.
I want to kiss him, and all the reasons I haven’t yet suddenly seem really dumb. I’m holding myself back. I’m in a prison of myown making, but the door isn’t locked and I can leave any time. If I want this, why shouldn’t I take it?
Fuck it.
I push my lips against his, and then we’re kissing, his hand winding through my hair, my hands on his face to hold his mouth against mine, to taste, to remind myself what it was like to pour my desire out to someone who can contain it.
Kissing Todd never felt like this. It never had the heat or the fire; it never felt like being consumed.
Which is probably why I was going to marry him, because Todd was safe.
And Miles is not.
Miles, who couldn’t even tell me he loved me when we were dating, but told me he wanted to marry me. Miles, who looked at me like I hung the moon and still chose a sport over me. Miles. Bossy, stubborn, impatient, control freak Miles.
I break the kiss, our labored breathing the only thing louder than the hot tub.
“This is a bad idea,” I say, but my forehead is pressed to his and my hands are still on his face.
“Abby…” His voice is hoarse and thick with wanting. I can’t ignore the throbbing between my legs any longer, and if I don’t leave now, we’re about to reenact what happened in Aspen.
“I…can’t. I…shouldn’t be doing this,” I say.
With the last ounce of my willpower, I wrench myself away from him, climb out of the hot tub, and practically sprint back to my room, praying he won’t follow me.
10
ABBY
The second my door clicks behind me, I’m discarding my bathing suit. I drop it as I walk straight into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I don’t wait for it to heat up before I step in, leaning my back against the cold tile as the water slowly heats, filling the room with steam.
My breathing evens as I finally still. I rest a hand over my heart, as if I could slow the beating of it to a normal pace with just a gesture.
That was…electric. We kissed like we remembered each other, as if eleven years hadn’t passed. As if we haven’t kissed other people over those years. It felt exactly like it did in college. Better.
And god, if I don’t want to do it again.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt desired, so long since I felt that sexy. My skin is sensitive to the touch, and I run my hands up my arms, letting the shower water wash away the hot tub water. I want to keep that feeling alive for a little bit longer. I’m not ready to let go of it yet. I trail my hands over my shoulders and down my chest, chasing the sensation of my own hands on my wet skin.
I slide my hands down, cupping my breasts, my nipple pinched between my fingers. I arch into my own touch, imagining larger hands holding and playing with me. When I skate one of my hands down between my legs, I’m not thinking about the way my own fingers slip inside of me; I’m thinking about whathisfingers would feel like. And as I circle the most sensitive part of myself, my fingers wet with the evidence of my encounter with Miles, it’s his mouth I’m thinking about, our kiss, the way he held me against him.
A distant, intentional banging noise gives me pause, and I wait, my hands stilled. Is it my neighbors?
The noise happens again, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from above me. I think someone is at my door.
What if…what if it’s Miles?
My heart beats harder at the thought of it.
