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Ian is silent for a few seconds as he studies my house. Although I left the porch the same, I redecorated the entire house. The walls are a warm yellow, the chairs are black, white, and cream. A small bookshelf stands in the corner, next to a vase containing rich green plants. Plants are in practically every corner of the house, some forming vines above my bed. There’s just something about being surrounded by plants and tending to them that I find soothing. Grandma shared the same belief; she taught me how to take care of plants.
“You take care of them, and they’ll take care of you,” was one of her favorite sayings.
“You kept the vase,” Ian says, pointing at the small ornate vase on the bookshelf.
“You remembered.”
“Your grandma told me the story behind this vase.” He meets my gaze, a small smile dancing on his lips. “Your grandpa gave it to her on their first anniversary.”
“Yeah.” I laugh, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Grandma loved telling everyone that story.”
“I prefer to think she had a special fondness for me.”
“Oh, she was very much so, I remember” I tell him.
A corner of his lips curve, and my stomach flutters.
Oh for God’s sake. Stomach flutters? Here’s that teenage girl still lurking inside me, acting out at the strangest moments.
Silence descends between us, and I rack my brain for the right words.
“So—”
“What—”
We both laugh.
“You go first.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s fine. You first.”
“Ladies first.”
I raise a brow. “Really? You never struck me as that type of guy.”
“You mean a gentleman?”
“I didn’t—“ I bite back a laugh. “Okay. I’ll go first.” I drops on a chair and places a pillow on my lap. “So what brings you back home? You’ve had your fill of traveling the world? I find that hard to believe.”
Ian sits beside me, turning so he’s facing me. I tap my fingers on my lap, waiting for his response.
“I needed a new kind of…thrill.”
Something about the way he says it makes my breath catch. He searches my eyes. The place between us shrinks, and his face looms closer to mine. He cups my cheek, and we stare into each other’s eyes. Did he ever know that I had such a big crush on him throughout my entire teenage years? I thought I have lost it but it’s still lingering around, I can feel it in my whole body. A sense of joy and pleasure take over me, then I realize the person who I used to daydream about is sitting in my living room, on my sofa next to me, and cupping my cheeks.
That made the butterflies in my stomach create a wave of nervousness while at the same time a sense of deliciousness in my body. I want him with every cell of my body. NOW. The seconds crawl by as I hold my breath, my heart is hammering against my ribcage as his manly scent envelopes me. It’s getting unbearable, what is he waiting for? My permission? I can’t take it anymore…I close my eyes.
What am I doing? I want to taste his lips. I want my fantasy dreams to come true. I want a kiss from Ian, I want Ian to kiss me passionately right this moment. As I am lost in my own thoughts, I feel his delicious breath on my face. Then his lips are on mine and every logic disappears. His other hand digs into my hair, drawing me closer as his mouth moves against mine. Heat courses through me. Sweet, delicious tingle shoots down my spine, and my hands move of their own accord. Into his thick wavy hair. His neck. His shoulders.
The kiss turns passionate, and I draw him closer, drinking from his lips like a thirsty person in a desert. In a blink, I’m in his laps, straddling him, inhaling his warm breath, my head foggy with desire for him and the feel of him.
I’m in my house, kissing Ian. Somehow, my logic doesn’t kick in. Not yet. He pauses momentarily, a hand gliding down my neck. Our eyes lock for a split second, and we’re back at it. My hands move beneath his shirt, roaming over his plane hard abs. Just like I thought – he’s more chiseled. One thick hand slides under my shirt to cup my breasts through my lace bra while the other moves to my waist and draws me closer, leaving me in no doubt of his arousal.
“Kaylee,” he whispers against my lips. “Are you –”
“Stop talking.” I claim his mouth, urged by a sense of urgency that hasn’t plagued me in ages. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the excitement of seeing him again after so long. Maybe it’s the desperate need to stop thinking so much and just feel.
In a flash, his shirt is gone. I pause to admire him. The sight of his muscled chest makes my mouth go dry. I lick my lips, caressing the muscles of his chest. He makes a small sound at the back of his throat. When I raise my gaze to his, his eyes are blazing, filling me up with heat.
