Page 93 of Where We Stay

I touch the sunflower resting against my chest. “Still worried I won’t remember?”

His gaze drops to my mouth.

“Not anymore.”

Dean’s hand slides to the side of my neck, warm and steady. His thumb brushes just beneath my jaw as he looks at me.

For one suspended second, he doesn’t move.

He’s giving me the chance to change my mind.

I don’t.

Dean leans in and presses his mouth to mine.

Softly at first.

Almost carefully.

Like he’s still waiting for me to pull away.

Instead, my hands find the front of his jacket and grip the fabric, answering him in the only way I can. His other hand settles at my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens.

Oh.

So, this is what I’ve been waiting for.

I rise onto my toes and slide my arms around his neck. Whatever restraint Dean was holding onto disappears.

He kisses me harder, his fingers tightening at my waist until there’s barely any space left between us. His mouth is warm and demanding without ever feeling rushed, and every nerve in my body lights up at once.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing harder than before.

His forehead rests against mine.

“You gonna remember that?” he asks, his voice rough.

I smile, still trying to catch my breath. “Might need you to do it again. Just to make sure.”

So, he does.

This time, there’s nothing careful about it.

By the time Dean pulls away again, my lips are swollen and my hands are tangled in the hair at the back of his neck.

“Happy birthday, Blair,” he murmurs.

I look up at him, completely breathless. “Definitely one to remember.”

His thumb brushes across my bottom lip before he reluctantly steps back.

“Goodnight, Miss Morgan.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Ashford.”

I watch him walk toward his truck before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.

Mostly because if I stay on that porch any longer, I’m going to drag him inside with me.