Page 58 of Your Last First Kiss

“And when they’re not watching?” she whispers.

The anxiety that’s normally squeezing my lungs like I’m trapped in a capsized boat suddenly rights itself, allowing my first taste of a new beginning.

“When they’re not watching, let me show you what you’ve been missing.” I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. Then kiss up her cheek to just below her ear.

“I think you’ll be disappointed,” she mutters.

I pull back enough so we’re nose to nose. “Why do you say that?”

I know there’s nothing she could do to disappoint me, but I need to hear what she’s thinking.

“I met Eddy when I was fourteen. He’s all I’ve ever known. He was my first kiss. My first date. My first—everything.” She looks down but can only lower her eyes to my chin because I’m standing so close and holding her so tightly. “My first and only everything,” she mutters.

My cock roars to life with this admission, and she gasps, but I don’t pull away.

I inhale deeply through my nose until I’m sure I can control myself, then put my lips to her ear. “Then let me be very clear about something else, sweetheart.” The low, demanding timbre of my voice sounds slightly unhinged. It surprises me, but when she shivers in my arms, I go with it.

“I’m going to erase all those firsts from your memory bank. Every.”

I kiss her neck.

“Single.”

My hips jut forward.

“One.”

Pulling her earlobe into my mouth, I bite down gently, and her entire body shudders.

“I’m going to replace them with something better. And I know they’ll be better because they’ll all be focused on you. I get the feeling no one has ever taken care of you properly, Penny, and I’m going to fucking delight in changing that.”

“But I…”

I flick her earlobe with my tongue, then pull away.

Wearing a smirk, I narrow my eyes. “I want to be your last first date. Your last first dance. Your last first fuck. And yeah, I want to be your last first kiss.”

There goes that tiny frog-like gulp again. “But that would mean…”

I nod.

She shakes her head.

“But my life. Your life. We don’t even kn—”

“If you’re about to say we don’t even know each other, I’m going to stop you right there because I know you, Penny. I fucking know you. Do you know how many Wednesdays we’ve missed in three years?”

Another head shake, but there’s a flicker of acknowledgment in her baby blues.

She knows.

“Four. We’ve missed four. That means I’ve spent one hundred and fifty-two hours with you, not counting our out-of-office meetups at Ashton’s house or Lochlan’s parties. One hundred and fifty-two hours I’ve spent getting to know you. Listening when you speak. Hearing your words. Dreaming about your voice. Memorizing it all.”

I take a step back, and she fills her lungs with air.

“I know you, and you know me.”

“Dillon.” She holds her fist to her chest like a shield as she speaks, so I give her a little more room. “My life? It’s messy and complicated.” She gestures to the family room, and some of the spark our kiss caused escapes, leaving sadness in her eyes. She stares at the floor, and I wish I knew what she was thinking.