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My heart is pumping with adrenaline, the only time I feel like this is when I’m on the ice. I don’t know what to do with myself. A wrinkle in the brown paper holding the peonies keeps my fingers occupied while I shift from one foot to the other. A woman appears from the other room, and I freeze. So does she.
No way.
“Gray?”
I rub my hand over my face. This is why she looked familiar—it was her eyes. There’s only one person on earth with those eyes. But damn. She’s grown up.A lot.Shit, what have I done?
“Oh my God.” She steps back, her mouth agape. “Um...”
“I don’t know what to do right now,” I admit.
“Me either. Can we just, like, forget whatever happened the other night?”
“Not a chance.”
Is she kidding? I’ll still be thinking about that night on my death bed.
“Excuse me?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“You heard me.”
She hasn’t stopped blushing since our eyes met.
It takes me a minute to get over the fact this isn’t just Gray—this is Bridget. Emotions fog my vision. I have to look away for a second to compose myself, and when my gaze returns, I shake my head and drop it in disbelief. No doubt, it’s her. If I had taken longer to look at her that night, maybe if I hadn’t taken her from behind, would I have seen the resemblance? I don’t know. But the woman in front of me is Bridget—and she’s a fucking smokeshow.
Somehow, her silver doe eyes are even more bewitching than before. High cheekbones and full, pouty lips. Her hair is the same chestnut color from when we were young. But her body... she’s still petite, but those sexy-as-sin curves are anything but small, and I got to know them well the other night. That innocent crush I had as a kid is not so innocent anymore, especially now that I’ve been in her bed. I can taste her and still feel the way she came around my cock if I think about it long enough.
I can’t believe she’s standing in front of me right now. She’s alive and breathing—and every one of her breaths steal one of mine.
“Let’s start over,” she says.
I vehemently disagree. But I’ll let her think that’s what’s happening.
“Hi... I’m Birdie.” She holds her hand up in a shy wave.
Say it again.
“I know.”
“It’s Lonan, right?”
“I’ve also gone by PB and J.”
She attempts to hide her smile by biting her lip and rolls her eyes at my refusal to drop the one-night stand.One night my ass.
My smile is permanent. They will bury me with this stupid ass grin on my face. God, Bridget. My fingers itch to touch her again, but I resist. It’s a pretty big ask of myself, considering I’ve already done it.
“Did you bring me flowers, Lonan?” She nudges the conversation forward.
I’m suddenly aware I’ve been standing in front of her grinning like an idiot for the last sixty seconds. She’s already got the drop on me, and she knows it too.
I clear my throat. “I did. Last time I checked, magenta was your favorite color,” I explain, handing over the peonies. “It’s been a while though.” Dumb joke.
She takes them from me, looks down at the bouquet, and chuckles. “These are really nice, thank you.”
Tilting her head to the side, she studies my face, and it reminds me of the day in the fort when she asked if Ilike-likedher. What is she thinking? Does she remember that? Or, more likely, has she realized who I actually am? If she follows hockey, like most people in Vancouver do, she’s seen my face. Which means she sees #14, defenseman for the Minnesota Lakes, and the team’s resident fuckboy. Not her childhood friend with whom she shared her first kiss—the same guy she gave hope to two nights ago after blowing his mind with incredible chemistry and even better sex. I had sex with Bridget. Why do I keep struggling to realize she and Gray are the same person?
It’s hard to reconcile that the sweet little girl I grew up with is the same sexy woman that, less than forty-eight hours ago, had me coming harder than I ever had before. My brain tries to resist merging the innocent memories with the sinful ones.
