Page 134 of Hold Me Tight

He steps closer, resting one large hand on the ledge, just an inch from mine.

My fingers curl in reflex, but I refuse to move.

Tension buzzes in the air as my gaze drops to the sliver of space between our hands.

“You still wear the same jasmine perfume,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” I reply tightly, surprised and a little unsettled that he would remember.

He leans in, his breath feathering across my neck. “It always takes me back to the summers at the lake and the first time you kissed me.”

“You were the one who kissed me first,” I fire back without thinking.

His laugh is low and rough. “You’re probably right about that. Even then, I couldn’t get you out of my head. That hasn’t changed in all these years.”

I freeze. “Hugh…”

“I remember every second we spent together, Evie,” he says. “I know mistakes were made, but it’s not too late for us to get our happily ever after.”

My pulse riots dangerously beneath my skin.

“I look at those kids in there,” he continues, “and I’m envious. They’re not afraid to put themselves out there or take a chance on love.”

“Love?” I swallow. “I think you might be delusional.”

“Not at all,” he says simply. “What I am, though, is patient.”

I steel myself before turning to face him. “If you’re hoping I’ve forgotten what happened after that summer?—”

“There’s no forgetting,” he cuts in quietly, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “If I could go back and redo it all, I would in an instant. There were people who didn’t want us together, and I let them win. I let them take away the one pure thing in my life. That’s a regret I’ll carry with me forever.”

“No,” I agree quietly. “There’s no rewriting history. As much as either of us might wish it were possible.”

A hint of sadness pricks me unexpectedly, but I shove the emotion aside before it can take root.

“I know,” he says. “Trust me, I do.”

Just when I consider stepping away and leaving this dangerous closeness behind, he says, “If I could touch you, I’d start right here.”

His finger hovers above my bare shoulder, close enough for the heat of him to ghost across my skin. Even though he doesn’t make contact, my body reacts all the same.

“I’d trace every inch of you,” he continues, “until you forgot about everything except this very moment.”

I freeze, pulse stuttering, as his gaze falls to my parted lips. For one reckless, terrifying second, I want to close the distance between us. I want to feel his mouth on mine, coaxing me into forgetting the past. Every reason and every scar that once tore us apart.

Instead, I retreat, taking a shaky step back until the railing presses into my spine. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t break the rules,” he says after a beat. “As much as I wanted to.”

Every nerve ending sparks to life as I lift my chin. “Forcing me to move in with you was a disastrous idea.”

“Maybe,” he admits, eyes locked on mine. “But it was my call to make. And you’re running out of reasons to keep pretending you don’t still have feelings for me.”

I hate that he’s right.

Worse, I hate that my skin tingles where his breath touched it, and that I can still smell his cedar and warmed amber cologne. And that even now, I want more.

He steps back at last, giving me the space I desperately need but don’t actually want.

And then, just before he turns away, he says, “You need to understand something, Evie. I’m not going anywhere.”

I watch him walk away as my pulse continues to race and heat blooms under my skin. Every piece of me is at war with the only part that matters.

The one that still wants him.