“Why?”
“Because I liked to torture myself and get lost in the memories of us together,” he whispers. “All of them.”
All of them.
How can three totally innocent words paint a picture of us naked in the back of his car while Blink-182 blared from the speakers? Or the time he had to sneak out of my room when my dad came to check on me after Owen had climbed up the trellis and through my window? Or maybe the time we made love under the stars in the center of the football field on a dark red picnic blanket that I still have tucked away in my closet? I grab another handful of popcorn and pop a few pieces into my mouth.
“Does anything remind you of me?” he asks. It feels like we’re both dancing a sexy, dangerous tango instead of taking an innocent walk down memory lane, but I can’t help it.
Everything, I want to say as I swallow my bite, then drop my gaze to my hands. “Um…football. That’s a big one.”
“I ruined that one, though, didn’t I.” It isn’t a question.
With a sigh, I put my hand on his knee and squeeze softly. I’m tired of the sharp bite of pain that mingles with my memories of us. And for the first time since he left, the moments we’ve had together made me smile instead of cry. I don’t want that to end. Not yet.
“Tell me more,” I beg.
“About the things I miss?”
“Yes.”
He looks down at my hand on his knee and shifts in his seat, then bites his lip and drags his attention to my eyes. The heat that accompanies his gaze makes my breath hitch.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he breathes.
“Why not?”
His gaze drops down to my mouth before his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by diving into the other…things we enjoyed doing together while little ears are in the house.”
“I think you just did.”
“Trust me. I could’ve said something a hell of a lot less innocent when describing my favorite activity with you.”
My cheeks heat, but I roll my eyes in hopes of covering up the memories of all the things we used to do together. Naked.
“How kind of
you,” I quip.
“I used to be very kind to you.”
“I think it was a two-way street on that front,” I remind him, making my face feel like it’s on fire.
Are we really talking about our sex life right now?
His brow quirks. “Good point. We fit well together like that, though, don’t you think?” His voice is raw and gritty, laced with an underlying note of lust that brings the heat sizzling beneath my skin to the surface.
How the hell did we get on this topic?
Forgetting about the popcorn in my hand, I chew on the pad of my thumb, holding his stare as I squirm from its intensity. “Um, yes. I think we did.”
With one arm inching behind the back of the couch, his tongue darts out between his lips before he murmurs, “Do you remember the night when––”
“Hey, Dad!” Grady calls from the kitchen, making me almost jump out of my own skin. “Do you want a drink?”
A low groan rumbles up Owen’s throat. “No thanks, Grady.”
“Miss Swenson?” Grady asks.