I stood up and walked ahead of him. Spine straight, shoulders back, every inch the successful designer who had her life together. I still hadn’t looked at him. Because I knew if I looked at him, I’d be lost.
We moved through the crowd and onto the terrace. The night air hit my overheated skin as I walked to the railing and gripped it, staring out at the city lights below, praying for strength andfortitude. I needed to get through the next five minutes without losing my mind, or worse, falling under his spell again.
“I-sa-belle.”
He said my name like it was three separate words, drawing it out, savoring it. The way he used to say it when we were alone, when he was kissing his way down my body, when he was…
I sighed and turned around. “Hello, Femi.”
His brown eyes smiled at me first, crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made my heart skip. Then I took in the rest of him and realized that the universe was indeed unfair. Cosmically, catastrophically unfair.
Because why else would Femi Davies have become even more devastating with age? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Eight years should have done something. It should have made him softer, or balding, or less magnetic. Instead, he looked like he’d been carved from bronze by an artist with a vendetta against women’s self-control.
“I love the way you say my name.” He took a step forward, I took one back, my hip hitting the railing. “You look gorgeous, love. I missed you terribly.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, going on the offense. Maybe if I was attacking, I’d have less time to be charmed.
But his grin only widened, drawing my attention to his beard that ran from just below his ear to his jaw. It was trimmed to perfection, framing his face perfectly. I used to love the feel of it against my skin. I used to play with the tiny strands of hair before he went to the barbershop.
“Careful, love. You don’t want to damage it,” he’d say. Femi was very particular about his beards. It was his pride and joy.
“Xavier invited me, actually.”
Of course, I should have known. Well, Xavier never mentioned Femi around me. Femi Davies was strictly in the ‘do not discuss’ pile, filed away with other topics we avoided. But Iwould have appreciated a heads up. A chance to prepare myself instead of being ambushed by the sight of him.
Actually, I would have appreciated it even more if Xavier hadn’t invited him at all. But Xavier was loyal, and Femi had been his friend for longer than I’d been Femi’s girlfriend.
“Okay, good.” My voice came out too bright, too brittle. “So, you shouldn’t be talking to me then. Xavier is inside, you can go catch up with him.” I moved to walk past him, back to the safety of the party. But I soon realized that was a terrible mistake.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist to stop me, his fingers circling the delicate bones there. His hand was warm. So warm.
“Issy… don’t go.”
Electricity shot up my arm. Chemistry. Biology. All the reactions on the planet happening at once where his skin touched mine. I couldn’t pull my hand away. My body had apparently decided to mutiny, to ignore every sensible command my brain was frantically issuing.
My eyes moved of their own volition to meet his.
God… those eyes. I’d loved them so much. Still did, apparently, judging by the way my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Brown eyes flecked with gold, framed by lashes that had always seemed unfairly long. Eyes that had watched me with adoration, with frustration, with desire, and with heartbreak.
And those lips.
Plump, perfect, sinful. Femi had always been a talented kisser. I wondered if he was still good at it. I could find out. For research purposes. For the good of all the women on the planet, of course. Maybe just a little taste. It was experimental. Scientific. Not for me. Definitely not for me.
He was leaning down. I was leaning in, rising on my toes. No words were needed. Our bodies remembered this dance even if our minds had tried to forget.
His lips touched mine and my eyes squeezed shut automatically, the world disappearing into darkness and sensation. He pressed them against mine for a few seconds, waiting, always so careful with me.
Then he moved.
His tongue parted my lips, seeking entry, and I gave it to him without hesitation. His hand moved from my wrist to my waist, pulling me closer, and suddenly we were pressed together, and I could feel every hard plane of him, every muscle, the rapid beating of his heart matching mine.
He was still good. Better than good. I’d confirmed it. So, I should let go of him now. I should stop my hands from clinging to the muscles on his arms, feeling them flex under my grip. I should stop tasting him like he was water and I’d been dying of thirst.
But I couldn’t. Once again, I let myself get caught in his spell, let myself drown in the familiarity of him, in the way he kissed like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered but this. Us.
“Lord, Issy.” His voice was rough against my lips, broken with want. “I missed you, I missed this,” he said against my lips. He kissed me again, deeper, desperate now. “I hated losing you. I wish you hadn’t said no. We would have been so happy, Issy.”
The words hit me like cold water.
