His lips parted. “Take your turn.”
“Uh…” I lay back down, trying to focus on anything other than the husky tone in his words and the perfect shape of his mouth. “What’s something no one knows about you?”
There was a pause, a second of effortless silence that didn’t feel at all like a hesitation but more like the kind of beat that allowed the next words to have emphasis. “I’m still in love with you.”
The ground below me seemed to shift and the sky tilted. His words were a gut punch, knocking the wind out of me. They crowded around me like a cloud of mosquitos, puncturing me with their levity, making me itch and squirm.
His words were not easy. They were not simple.
My reaction was automatic and choked. “Oh my God, you’re a fucking asshole.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” His statement tried to tease, but his tone remained committed.
Like he’d remained committed. From the moment he’d first said the words, through the year that we’d been apart. Through now. Everything he’d said and done had made that evident. He’d fought for me, even when I couldn’t see him fighting. He was sure of us. What else did I need to know about him to know that his love was true?
What else did I need to know to know that my love was as well?
This was the moment to decide—let him in or let him go. I shut my eyes and took a breath.
And then I leapt. “The same. I feel exactly the same.”
Immediately, he lurched, scrambling toward me.
“No, no, stay where you are. Don’t come over here, you’ll ruin it.”
“Too bad.” He settled himself over me, his upper body propped up on his hands braced on the ground at either side of my head.
He pierced me with his gaze, and I had a not-quite-identifiable urge to laugh or throw up or cry.
“Gwen,” he said, and every part of me melted at the word. “I was lost when you met me. And then you found me. You have been the only thing besides revenge that has kept me alive. And really? Living for revenge isn’t any sort of life at all.”
Cry. That’s what the urge was. My throat was thick and my eyes glossy. I’d thought there was no possible way I could be important in his world after Corinne, and here he was telling me that I was wrong.
His lips crept into the hint of a smile. “Did I ruin it?”
“Not even a little bit.” My voice sounded tight, but actually I felt more open than I had in a long time.
The hint turned into a full grin. “Also, you have the nicest tits and pussy I’ve ever seen.”
“Dammit. Now you ruined it.”
“I totally did, didn’t I?”
He hadn’t ruined anything. He shifted and I could feel his cock pressing at my hip, thick and long and tempting. “Fucking asshole.”
“I’m so hard right now.”
“Yeah, I can feel it.” I wanted to feel more of it. Why had I made that stupid no-sex rule? Could I pretend I hadn’t meant it to include every form of sex?
“I need to get off of you, don’t I?”
“You probably should.” First, I hoped he’d kiss me. It was all we could probably get away with in public like this, but I was ready for it.
“Yeah, I should.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, and when he started to roll to his side, I was sure he’d take me with him. Instead he copped a feel of my breast.
“Hey!”
He landed on the ground beside me and shrugged. “You already said I was a fucking asshole. Least I could do was deserve it.”
I laughed, mostly because I needed the release. I turned toward him and propped my head up with one hand. “After all that, you’re not even going to try to kiss me?”
“Nah.”
My jaw dropped and I stared at him incredulously.
“You’ve made out in a park before. I want our first kiss to be memorable. Our second first kiss, I mean. Our first kiss this time around.”
More likely he wanted to drive me crazy. In which case, it was working.
On the other hand, if he’d meant exactly what he said, it was a sweet sentiment. “Every kiss with you is memorable,” I said, softly. “They wipe out memories of any others.”
He shifted so he was also on his side, mimicking me. But he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move any closer.
I reached my hand out to graze my fingers along his newest tattoo. He closed his eyes and sighed, as if my skin against his was as much of a luxury for him to feel as it was for me to touch.
I moved my gaze from his face to the new design. It was important or he wouldn’t have etched it on his body. Earlier he hadn’t wanted to tell me, and I hadn’t pushed because I assumed that meant I didn’t want to hear. Now, ready or not, I thought I should know. “JC, what does this date mean?”