“That sounds perfect, Chloe.” He smiled. “More than perfect.”

The entire night he’d been sitting there shirtless, watching whatever the hell movie had been playing. I’d tried not to look at him. To ogle him. To devour him.

I kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with the throbbing ache between my legs. I wanted him. And I knew he wanted me. The endless kissing, touching, feeling—it wasn’t enough anymore. Not for me.

He pulled back from our kiss, his lips red and raw. “We need to slow down, I don’t want to sleep with you yet. But if we keep going, I’m going to lose control. You need to stop me before it gets too far.” His eyes were dark. Darker than I’d ever seen them. “Please, Chloe.”

It took a moment before I worked out what he was asking. I nodded once and wrapped my legs tighter around his waist.

“Okay.”

And if he did lose control—it didn’t show. Every move, every touch, every taste felt calculated. His hands moved up my sides, taking my shirt with it. We broke away from the kiss only long enough for him to lift the top over my head. But when we continued, something in him had switched. No longer slow and gentle, his kisses became desperate. Passionate. Perfect. He was perfect.

His hand slid up my back and settled on my bra, where it stilled—asking for approval, I guessed. I moaned into his mouth and pulled myself closer with my hands on his shoulders. Effortlessly, he unclasped the bra, slowly sliding it down my arms. I pulled back to let it fall, but his grip on my waist kept me there.

He bit his lip, his eyes moving from one breast to another. “Beautiful,” he whispered before kissing me again.

It took only seconds before we were there once more, teetering on the edge of whatever control we had left. His thumb brushed against my nipple; the other one laced and fisted in my hair. He yanked hard but not hard enough that it hurt.

My head tilted back so his mouth could move to my neck. I was grinding my hips, rubbing my heat where I wanted him the most. His hips rose, meeting me there. I was so wet, so close.

His mouth moved lower and lower, onto my collarbone, where his lips paused to suck. Hard. And I loved it. And then he moved. Lower again. I pushed my chest out. Ready. Waiting. I needed him where he wanted to be. The warmth of his mouth on my nipple set me off. I ground harder into him. Faster. We groaned simultaneously. And I didn’t even know when or how they got there, but his fingers brushed against my sex, over my panties, rubbing lightly.

“Shit,” I repeated the word over and over between pants.

Then he pushed the material aside and pushed two fingers inside me. His mouth moved from one breast to the other, and whatever control I had was gone. I was done. I thrust into his hand as his fingers worked me over the edge. I didn’t even notice when he pulled back. Not until every last shudder went through me, and I finally managed to open my eyes.

He was watching me, eyes hooded, mouth partially open. I moved in to kiss him. Just once, before I made my way down his body. His neck first, sucking the way he’d done to me. Marking him. Making him mine. He slid his fingers out of me. I kissed lower, over his chest, as I slid down his body. My tongue slid to his stomach—his perfect stomach—paying special attention to the dips of his muscles. Then my hands moved and curled around the band of his boxers.

“Chloe.” He covered my hands with his. “You don’t have to—”

I didn’t listen. He didn’t continue protesting. Once my mouth was around him, he was silent. Apart from the moans toward the end and a single word—my name.

We spent three more days in the hotel room, and we did exactly what we both wanted. We didn’t have sex, but we shared, we talked, we laughed. And at some point, we fell even more in love. We didn’t voice it. We didn’t have to. We both knew. But someday, real soon, I’d tell him.

And for the first time in my life, I made a plan for the future.

Blake Hunter—he was my future.

Think a little less, live a little more.

“Ha!” he said. “I like that one.”

“Me, too.” I smiled.

He picked up his blank magnet and scribbled on it. Today will live forever in the memory of tomorrow.

“I love that. Where’s it from?” I looked up at him.

He shrugged and kissed my forehead.

“One of my mom’s books.”

“You read her books?” I asked.

“Every single one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Chloe

He leaned against the car and pulled me into him, my back to his chest. “What’s it supposed to be?”

“An egg, I think.”

“What’s its purpose?”

“A water tower? I’m not sure.”

“Why do you always make me stop at these random things?” He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it to the egg-shaped tower. “Do you think they built it with this in mind? That people would pull over and want to spend longer looking at it?”

I laughed. “You can’t stop looking at it, can you?”

“No,” he said, astonishment clear in his voice. “And I have no idea why.”

I stared at my breasts in the bathroom mirror.

They looked the same.

Only they weren’t.

I had imagined this moment so many times. I even thought that I’d prepared myself for it. But things had changed so much over the past few weeks that I had almost let myself believe that it would never happen.