Page 230 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

This week was his turn.

He’d refused to tell me anything.

For seven days, every time I’d asked, he’d just smiled that infuriating, wonderful smile and said, “You’ll see.”

He glanced at me, something mischievous in his eyes. “All I will say is—I’ve packed extra clothes. Because we’re going to get very wet.”

I waited.

He blinked. “We’re going to a waterpark.”

“There it is.”

“It’s more of a water event, really.” He was already talking faster, the way he always did when he was excited. “There are activities. Races. Obstacle courses. Things we can do together.”

I scowled, just to see him squirm. “I don’t want to be in a waterpark with other people, though.”

His smile widened. “That’s why I booked the entire place. Just for us.”

“Nice.” My hand found the back of his neck, my fingers threading into his hair. He leaned toward me without thinking, as if some part of him was always being pulled toward me before the rest of him had time to catch up.

I pulled him closer, my lips brushing his ear.

“I knew there was a reason I was keeping you.”

His mouth crashed into mine.

He groaned, low and warm, his hand sliding to my waist and pulling me closer. His lips moved against mine, fast and hungry, the way they always did when I caught him off guard. And I let him. I let him kiss me until my lungs burned, until his breath was heavy against my mouth, until there was nothing else I could feel but him.

He finally pulled back, breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine. Then he kissed me again, softer this time, before pressing his lips to my forehead and letting them linger there.

“I love you,” he said.

He said it every day now. Sometimes ten times. Sometimes twenty. He said it in the morning, his voice rough with sleep. He said it over the phone between meetings. He said it when I laughed, when I frowned, when I did nothing at all.

I kissed the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

He smiled against my lips, soft and warm, and somehow I felt it everywhere.

“I used your money, by the way.” He pulled back just enough to look at me, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright. “You’re richer than me, after all.”

My hand found the back of his neck again, my fingers threading through his hair, feeling the warmth of him beneath my palm.

“I knew it,” I said, keeping my voice serious even as my lips twitched. “I knew you were only with me for my money.”

He sighed, dramatic and defeated. “Damn it. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

He turned forward, reached for his seatbelt, and clicked it into place.

I shook my head, still holding the back of his neck, still feeling the pulse beneath my fingers. “Just shut up and drive.”

The car pulled out of the driveway. He drove with one hand, the other resting on my knee, his thumb tracing slow circles against the fabric of my jeans.

“I can’t believe I actually missed getting bullied by you.”

My brows lifted. “I don’t know what you’re calling bullying, Cassian. I’ve never even once shoved you against a locker.”

He glanced at me. Something in his eyes shifted. Darkened.