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“Do you see them often?” He returns my smile, and I want to kiss the tilt of it away from his face, starting at one perfect corner and ending at the other.

I take a deep breath instead, releasing it as I follow him out of the room. “I do. They live here in Seattle too, actually,” I tell him.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, wow. I had no idea. That’s great, Jess.”

“Thank you…It is pretty great.” The thought of my family fills my heart with happiness. They’ve lived here for about five years now, but they visited me every year before that. I’ve loved having them close. Especially since my little brothers are getting so damn big now. They make the past eight years feel like they’ve flown by.

We walk into Greyson’s office next, and it washes away those thoughts. It’s probably the busiest room I’ve seen so far. Paperwork is strewn across a mahogany desk; there’s a bookshelf that spans one wall, filled top to bottom with books; and then there are the framed pictures and articles that cover the majority of the other three walls.

“And how’s your family?” I bounce the question back at him.

“Good. They’re good as well.” He answers with a purse of his lips, thinking something over. “My parents are divorced now. For the better,” he adds.

“Do you still talk to your father?” I ask carefully.

“Just recently, actually. So, yes, I do.” He leans back onto his desk, gripping the edges with his hands. “We’ve been working on building a relationship—slowly,” he says.

“That’s good.” I nod in acknowledgement. “I’m glad to hear that.” And I mean it, I do, but I still can’t keep my gaze from lingering on his tensed forearms. From trailing up his biceps and across his chest, up to his face. The echo of our words drifts away, and his eyes feel like they’re penetrating mine, begging me to come closer. To close these three or four feet of distance that separates us.

I almost give in to the need, but the look in his eyes tells me it’ll go much further than a kiss, and there’s still too much of our past hanging between us to allow that to happen.

I clear my throat and divert my attention. “Did you like being in the military?” I ask.

“I did,” he answers, and a thought occurs to me. He said his mother gave him his grandfather’s ring during his first tour. Hisfirsttour.

“How many tours did you do?” I ask him.

“Two.” He takes a deep breath and releases it. “I did two tours.”

The darkness that briefly settles over his features quickly forces me to steer away from that topic. “So, why Seattle? How did you end up here?” I still want to reach over and smooth the crease from his brow, but he offers a shrug and a slight smirk, completely wiping away the darkness of a moment ago.

“I made some friends in the army who grew up here, and we started a band together. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he says, and the intensity of his stare sends a warmth spreading through my cheeks. I try my best to ignore the way it keeps spreading, traveling lower.

He leads me into a game room next and flips the light switch on. I take in the dark pool table at the center of the room, a few classic arcade games resting against the back wall, and a leather couch positioned in front of a big screen tv and a couple different gaming consoles.

“Charlee would go absolutely nuts in here,” I comment.

“Then bring her sometime,” he suggests with a smile, and I can’t help but smile back. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my distance.

I follow him out of the room, and we trail our steps back down his hallway. My eyes sweep over the back of him without restraint.

Tanned neck, muscles shifting beneath his dark shirt, black jeans hugging his backside. His bare feet on his tiled floor make me feel at completely at home, andholy hell,but I’d really like to have my way with him now. This man is perfection. Every piece of him, inside and out, is absolute perfection, and I ache to run my hands over every inch of that perfection.

The temperature in his house spikes a few extra degrees, or ten. It certainly feels that way, anyway.

He looks back at me, catching me mid-ogle, practically drooling all over myself, and his lips tilt into a crooked smile. My heart can hardly take it.

We head back out towards the foyer and up a flight of stairs, into a bedroom that takes up the entire upper floor.

I keep waiting for the questions to come.Thequestions. But they never do. And then it hits me, with the weight of a thousand intentions, that this is his bedroom we’re now standing in.

His bedroom.

Nerves settle in, breeding butterflies in my stomach.

It’s a dark room, overlooking his yard and that amazing view. An oversized bed rests against the main wall, facing the windows, and…

I can’t help but wonder how often it gets used.