Chapter 319: Hard To Forget

Samantha looked into Fitzgerald’s eyes and, for once, found no trace of the usual amusement or carefully constructed composure there. He looked completely honest, and that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.

He was telling her the one thing she had spent years wishing she could hear, and it was not some charming stranger saying it to her. It was Fudgie. Her Fudgie. The man she had once loved before he had broken her heart and disappeared from her life.

Her heart gave a painful little leap inside her chest, but she wasn’t ready to give him an answer simply because he had finally found the right words.

“Way to propose, Fudgie,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “With your penis poking against me. Very romantic. Every girl’s dream.”

Fitzgerald actually chuckled. The sound vibrated against her as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his expression far too pleased with himself.

“I’ll give you a proper proposal,” he promised. His lips brushed her cheek again, lingering this time. “A proper ring, flowers, a kneeling man, the whole humiliating spectacle. You can even make me repeat the question if you don’t like my first attempt.”

Despite herself, Samantha smiled.

“But now…” His voice lowered as his lips moved closer to hers, each kiss landing a little nearer to her mouth. “What do you say?”

His hand slid slowly along her waist, warm against her bare skin, and his fingers traced the curve of her side with deliberate patience. Samantha tried to maintain the dignity of a woman who was supposed to be seriously considering an important romantic decision, but her body had apparently decided to betray her. Her heartbeat quickened, her chest rose and fell faster, and when his fingers drifted lightly over her skin, a shiver ran through her.

Fitzgerald noticed.

Naturally.

A smug little smile tugged at his mouth as his eyes met hers.

“You’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m cold.”

“You’re lying.”

She gave him an irritated look, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “You’re extremely annoying.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning closer, “you haven’t asked me to leave.”

His fingers continued their lazy exploration of her waist, never quite becoming demanding, but never allowing her to forget that he was there. Samantha swallowed and looked away, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

“My father doesn’t like you,” she said.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It is a very important consideration.”

“It is a consideration,” Fitzgerald agreed, “but it is not an answer.”

He kissed her cheek again, and this time Samantha couldn’t stop herself from giggling. She turned her face away, trying to hide her smile.

“Stop.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Your eyesight has clearly deteriorated.”

“Then perhaps I should get closer.”

He kissed her again, and this time she turned at exactly the wrong moment—or perhaps exactly the right one. His lips caught the corner of hers, and both of them went still.

The teasing disappeared.

Samantha slowly looked at him.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. She could feel his breath against her lips, warm and uneven, and suddenly she was painfully aware of how close they were. This was Fitzgerald, but he was also Fudgie, the boy she had loved before either of them understood what love could cost. Five years had passed, and yet here she was, looking into the same eyes and remembering things she had tried very hard to forget.

She reached for him before she could think better of it.

Their mouths met, and the kiss carried none of the hesitation that had plagued their conversation. Fitzgerald’s arms tightened around her as though he had been waiting years for permission to hold her like this, while Samantha’s fingers slipped into his hair and pulled him closer.

There was hunger in the kiss, certainly, but beneath it was something softer—the desperate relief of finding something precious where she had believed it was lost forever.

When they finally parted, Samantha was breathless.

Fitzgerald rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing slowly over her cheek.

“Still worried about your father’s opinion?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

She frowned. “Good?”

“I’d hate to think I’ve become too easy.”

Samantha laughed and smacked his shoulder. Fitzgerald caught her hand before she could pull it away and pressed a kiss into her palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Repeatedly, I imagine.”

“Mostly by you.”

She shook her head, but the smile remained.

Then Samantha shifted, turning the tables. She pushed him gently back against the mattress and climbed over him, and the surprised lift of his eyebrows pleased her more than it should have.

“Well,” he murmured, looking up at her with unmistakable amusement. “This is an interesting development.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“I can’t help it.”

She leaned down and kissed him before he could say anything else. His hands settled instinctively around her waist, holding her securely as the kiss deepened. The playfulness gradually faded, replaced by something quieter and more serious.

Samantha drew back just enough to look at him, and the expression in his eyes made her heart falter. “You really mean it?” she whispered.

His hand rose to her cheek. “I’ve never meant anything more.”

She searched his face for the deception she had once been so certain was there, but found none. Whatever else Fitzgerald was—strange, arrogant, infuriating, and entirely too pleased with himself—he was not lying to her now.

She kissed him again.

This time, when he gently rolled them over, Samantha went willingly, her arms slipping around his shoulders as he settled above her. His kisses moved slowly across her cheek and temple before lingering at her throat, while his hands held her with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the wicked man who had been teasing her only moments before.

“Fudgie…”

He paused immediately and looked at her.

There was a question in his eyes.

Samantha smiled and drew him closer.

“I missed you too.”

Something softened in his expression.

He kissed her once more, and this time she did not turn away.

The rest of the night belonged to them.

After five years of separation, there were too many things to say and far too many things they had missed. They found their way back to each other through kisses, whispered names, quiet laughter, and the tenderness of finally being able to touch without fear that one of them would disappear again.

And when the room eventually fell quiet, Samantha lay against Fitzgerald’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

For the first time in five years, she wasn’t wondering what might have happened if things had been different.

She didn’t need to.

She was here. And so was he.