The Ultimate Steamy Farrah Jane Romance Bundle

I was both the father and the boyfriend, horrified by my own intentions.

We stood there on the landing at the top of the stairs, with the linen closet hanging open and my boyhood bedroom—where I dreamed so many dreams of her—right there.

"Can we maybe sit down somewhere?" she said, and that was all the invitation I needed.

"Let’s see what my parents did with my room for all these years," I suggested.

My ulterior motives were hardly even ulterior anymore. She had to know what this was... right?

I prayed she did. I couldn't take any more guilt.

My room, too, looked almost unchanged. No one had turned it into a man-cave or a craft studio, anyway. Had they expected visits? From me?

She sat on the bed, a bundle of quilted fabric with almost-blonde hair and big eyes filled with mischievous glee. I sat beside her, holding my own quilt around my neck—more a cape than a robe—and she opened hers and drew me into it.

"This is comfortable," she said, and her arms felt small around my shoulders. I guess I’d grown a little more than she had in the intervening years. She felt smaller, not like she’d lost weight but like she’d shrunk, the way an old woman shrinks. Or was that just my perspective?

I let myself put an arm around her. In the tangle of quilts and limbs we’d become, I told myself it was a best-friend arm, not a fuck-me arm.

But I knew what I really wanted.

Her eyes met mine, and they were the size of planets in the semi-darkness.

"I missed you."

I rarely, rarely cry.

"I... missed you," I said, and I heard surprise in my voice.

"You didn’t think you would?"

"I was…" so mad at you, I could have buried you, could have just forgotten all about you forever right there; that would’ve taught you a lesson, now wouldn’t it? But I just had to come back, just had to return to the scene of the crime.

"I know," she said, cutting me off. I was grateful I didn't have to finish the sentence. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

She gave me a quizzical look, though she couldn't possibly know what I was actually apologizing for.

She squeezed me a little tighter, and my heart turned to liquid. It leaked out through all my pores. Surely she’d smell the confession on me and pull away.

Instead, she squeezed tighter. I felt my own arm tightening around her shoulders, felt my other hand rising to caress her still-pink cheek.

She giggled suddenly. "This is so weird. I can't believe I’m…"

I didn't want to hear the rest, so I kissed her.

She was waiting for it. The blankets fell from us, crumpled away from our bodies like a snake shedding old skin.

What remained beneath was as raw and fresh and sensitive as the skin of her neck, when my mouth left hers and went there to suck and kiss and bite and tease while she threw her head back and gasped with each gentle movement of my tongue.

We fell over together onto the comforter that somehow still smelled like high school—and my hand was in her hair, her hand was on the stubble of my cheek, our lips were locked together, and now her other hand crept beneath my shirt.

Everywhere her hand moved on my skin, it left a cold, tingling fire in its wake. Goosebumps broke out on my neck, and competing versions of me fought in my head.

You have to stop this.

Oh my god, I must have her.

She’s not a prize, asshole; she used to be your best friend… before you turned into a dick.

But oh my god, I love her.

You don’t know the meaning of love.

Continue reading The Ultimate Steamy Small-Town Bundle if you like:

✔️ Small Towns
✔️ Relatable Heroines
✔️ Complex Heroes
✔️ Lots of Sass
✔️ So Much More!

What readers are saying:

“Love the way this author writes. The characters are so fascinating and you just never know what will happen next." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Kimberly R.

“Amazing author who knows how to keep your interest. We find the heart wants what it wants." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Melissa S.

“Loved this book! I would get annoyed when I had to take a break, because I wanted to know what would happen next." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Mary K.