Lost In Me (Here and Now 1)

I flush with embarrassment. I shouldn’t have been so bold. I shouldn’t have assumed that—

“You just got out of the hospital.”

One look at his face and my insecurities fall away. He’s breathing hard, and there’s something tortured about the way he’s looking at me.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Max. Please don’t worry about that.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. He sits first, but instead of taking the seat beside him, I grasp on to this newfound confidence and straddle his hips.

He groans. “You’re determined to tempt me, aren’t you?”

I shift side to side, adjusting my knees until his erection puts delicious pressure between my legs.

“Hanna,” he breathes.

There’s something in his eyes. Something so much beyond the tenderness he showed me in the hospital. Heat. “I don’t want you to hold back.” I press my mouth to his, and his hands instantly find my hips, his curling fingers betraying his true desires. I want more of that, more of this evidence that this is really happening, that this is really my life.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers against my mouth. His fingertips roam over my jaw and across my collarbone as he shakes his head. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Tell me about our first date.”

His face splits into a grin. “You want to hear about how nervous you were or where we went or—”

“How did it happen?” I settle my hand on his chest, loving the solid heat of it under my hand, the feel of his steady heartbeat. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long, but I thought you only had eyes for Lizzy. Did I finally work up the courage to ask you out?”

Som

e emotion I can’t identify flashes over his face. “I asked you.”

“Really?”

“You joined the gym, and I could tell you liked me.” He shrugs awkwardly and slides his hands around from my hips to my ass. “Asking you to dinner was definitely the best decision I ever made in my life.”

I’m engaged to Max Hallowell, and he says these amazingly sweet things to me. “Where did you take me?”

“Sebastian’s.”

My eyes go wide. “Fancy.”

“I was determined to impress you.”

“Ha! I liked you so much, you could have taken me to McDonald’s and I would have been impressed.”

“Hanna—”

I cut him off with my kiss. I press my lips softly to his and feel him relax underneath me. When his lips part and his hands tangle in my hair, I’m not kissing him anymore. He’s kissing me. His lips are gentle and persuasive, and I’m swept into that feeling that this is all some elaborate dream. And I don’t want to wake up.

By the time our lips part, we’re both breathing heavily, and I lean my forehead against his. “What are we going to do if my memory doesn’t come back?” I whisper. The question has been nagging at me. “We’re supposed to be getting married and I’ve lost the entirety of our relationship. This must be so terrible for you.”

His eyes go wide. “You’re worried about me?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to ask you to start over.”

“I’m not marrying your memories. I’m marrying you. And I would start over happily for you.”

“This is all so surreal. I just keep waiting to wake up and find out it was all a dream.”

He untangles his hands from my hair and slips them under my shirt. His touch is light and cautious of my bruises, but when his fingertips skim the underside of my breasts, he’s confident and sure—a wanderer returning to familiar territory. His thumbs find my nipples and my breath draws in with a hiss. I collapse forward, resting my head on his shoulder.