“Would you want to?” He seems genuinely interested in my response.
“That’s the million-dollar question.” I stare out at the Irish Sea, wondering if I would change things even if I could. Tilting my head to the side, I stare at him. “If I could erase the last couple of years, I would, but before that, everything was perfect. In a lot of ways, it’s easier to cling to the hurtful stuff, to let my anger override my other emotions. It’s easier to forget about the good times, but there were lots of good times,” I quietly admit, absently rubbing crumbs off my thighs as I stare at my lap.
“What’s he like?” he asks, and I jerk my head up. “I’m guessing everything reported isn’t true.”
“It’s not. Reeve isn’t a bad person, and I know he loved me. I guess he just lost his way.”
“That sounds like polite bullshit.” He hands me a bottle of water.
“I need to believe he was manipulated and tricked into following the path he did, because the other reality is too hurtful.” I release a shaky breath. “If he knew what he was doing, it means he didn’t care that he hurt me, and that thought is unbearable.” Tears sting my eyes, and I wish I could rewind to ten minutes ago and not start this conversation.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” Dillon circles his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer, and I rest my head against him. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“How much of a basket case I am?” I ask, half-laughing, half-crying.
“How badly he damaged your heart and whether there’s any hope for an impatient asshole like me.”
I lift my head and turn into him, draping my arms around his shoulders. “He hurt me, but I’m not some fragile broken doll you need to walk on eggshells around.”
He clasps my face in his hands. “I already know that, Viv. I just don’t want to rush you when you’re not ready. You’ll need to set the pace because the very last thing I want to do is hurt you too.”
“I think you’re a liar, Dillon O’Donoghue.”
All the blood drains from his face, and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat.
Easing back, I inspect his face closely, wondering why my words have evoked such a reaction. Maybe he’s realizing how vulnerable he’s made himself today, and he’s uncomfortable. That must be it. “Remember, we’re going to be scared together.” The panicked look on his face dials down as I lean in, kissing one corner of his delectable mouth. “You wave that asshole flag around, wearing it with pride, but I’m onto you.” I playfully tweak his nose, softly smiling. “You do it to keep people away. To stop yourself from feeling. I recognize the signs, so don’t try to deny it. But it’s not who you are. Underneath that façade hides a different man. One I really want to get to know.”
His hand moves to my hip. “I’ve told you things today I haven’t fully shared with anyone. You’re already getting under my skin.” His eyes drift to my mouth.
“You’re getting under mine too,” I whisper, pushing my body in closer to his. My eyes drop to his lips, and I want to know what it would’ve been like if Ash hadn’t interrupted us in the orchard that Sunday. Drawing on inner reserves of strength, I pin him with a confident gaze. “Kiss me.” I tighten my arms around his neck, moving our faces closer. “Kiss me like you’ll die if you can’t taste my lips.”
A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “You English students.” He shakes his head, his eyes turning a darker shade of green as his hands move to my hair. Slowly and methodically, he removes the tie from my hair, and glossy dark strands fall around my shoulders. “Are you sure this is what you want?” His gaze skims over my face as his fingers thread through my hair.
“Oh my God. Just kiss me already.”
He moves us back a little from the edge, wearing his trademark smirk the entire time. His lips part in a glorious smile, revealing his twin dimples, and we move at the same time, our lips colliding in perfect synchronization. Angling his head, he kisses my lips in an unhurried fashion, like we have all the time in the world. I cling to his shoulders, pressing myself in flush to his chest as our kiss continues. Heat skates over my skin, seeping into my bones, warming every part of me. Butterflies are doing cartwheels in my chest, and blood thrums in my ears. My hands dive into his silky-soft hair, and I moan into his mouth. Grasping the opportunity, he eases his tongue between my lips, groaning as he diligently explores my mouth. A throbbing ache pulses between my thighs, and when he pulls us down to the ground, lifting me over him so I’m straddling his thighs, I don’t raise any objection.
His arms clamp tightly around my back, keeping me in place so we don’t fall off the hill in the height of passion. Our kiss turns more heated, and we’re devouring one another, and it’s still not enough. He hardens underneath me, and black spots burst behind my closed eyelids as I grind against his erection, wishing we were skin to skin, yet knowing I’m not ready for that yet.
“Jesus, Viv.” Dillon moves his mouth from my lips to my ear, sucking on the sensitive flesh there. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Less talking. More kissing,” I pant, and he chuckles, pressing a trail of hot kisses along my neck and across my collarbone before returning to worship my lips.
We kiss and kiss until we’re forced to break apart or risk lockjaw. Scooting back even farther from the edge, he leans against a smooth rock, holding me in his arms with my back pressed to his chest.
I cling to his strong arms, trailing my fingers along his skin, marveling at how safe and secure I feel in his embrace. At how easy this is. I lean my head back against his warm, hard chest, and a blissful sigh slips from my lips. Angling my head, I look back at him, loving how swollen his lips are from my kisses. Our eyes remain glued together, and we stare at one another for an indeterminate period, not talking, just drinking our fill.
It’s not awkward.
Not in the slightest.
If feels like the most natural thing.
It’s like looking into the mirror of my soul and seeing all my emotions reflected at me. No words are spoken, but words are redundant. My chest heaves with a rush of emotions, and I close my eyes as he plants a soft kiss to my lips. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate my first attempt at a date?” he whispers over my mouth.
My eyes pop open. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”