Page 68 of Flashback for the Forward

Nothing like a little reminder first thing in the morning that our past relationship was far less than what she deserved. I hated that I hadn’t been brave enough to love her out in the open. And it rubbed me the wrong way that we were hiding while getting our second chance, even if it was for her safety.

Someday—hopefully sooner rather than later—we could step into the light, and I would be able to let the whole world know that she was the woman I loved.

“Did you have a bad dream?” I asked, wondering what had compelled her to sneak into the hallway seeking comfort.

“No.” Averting her gaze, she confessed, “I couldn’t sleep after that kiss.”

That intimate moment had set my world on fire, and hearing that she’d been similarly affected by it sent my soul soaring.

I forced myself to temper my excitement that we were on the same page because our road to reconnection needed to be a marathon, not a sprint. Going slow was the name of the game, and I was determined to let her take the lead.

“It was an amazing kiss,” I agreed.

Bridget traced the tattoo over my heart. “What’s a girl gotta do to get another one of those?”

A smile tugged onto my lips. “Depends on the girl.”

Lashes lifting, she hit me with the mother of all eye rolls before correcting, “What do I have to do to get another one of those?”

“That’s simple.” My palm skated up her side. “You only have to ask.”

There was a beat of hesitation where she licked her lips. “Can I have a kiss?”

My nose skated along the edge of hers. “You forgot the magic word,” I rumbled.

Breathy, she tacked on “Please?”

“That’s my girl,” I praised, nipping at her lower lip.

She whimpered, her hips lifting impatiently, grinding against the side of my thigh. “Cole, I need—”

“I know,” I murmured against her mouth.

Her fingers fisted the fabric of my shirt, and she hauled me flush, taking control. Our lips fused together, and my erection came roaring back to life.

God, she tasted like sin and salvation, and I couldn’t get enough.

Tongues battled for dominance, and a throaty groan worked its way through my chest. Every instinct demanded I flip her onto her back and claim her as mine, once and for all, but there was just enough blood left in my brain to warn that if I did, it would scare her away. And I refused to destroy the trust we’d been building.

So as much as it pained me, I pulled back.

A wrinkle formed between Bridget’s brows as her lips chased my withdrawal. “More,” she whined.

My thumb stroked over her cheek as I pressed a featherlight kiss to the tip of her nose. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes to reveal they were filled with lust. Her hand on my chest trailed lower, my abs contracting beneath her touch. Just as she made contact with the waistband of my boxers, I circled her wrist, halting her progress.

“Bridget,” I chided. “Let’s take things slow, okay?”

She broke out of my hold, grumbling, “You sound like Dr. Marshall.”

Knowing I was on the same page as her therapist made it easier to do the right thing, even if Bridget wasn’t so pleased about it.

“Probably best if we listen to the professional, don’t you think?”

“Fine.” She sighed, climbing off the mattress.

Rolling over, I adjusted my hard-on before standing. “How do waffles sound?”