The next second I’m in his arms, and his lips are on mine. His hands are in my hair and mine are up the back of his shirt.

This isn’t a kiss, it’s a wild fire.

I’m engulfed by it, the heat of his lips against mine, and the flame’s lick of his tongue.

I’ve dreamt of this kiss since I was fifteen years old. Even my wildest dreams did not touch the passion of this one. When his mom moved away not long after he left town for college, I was sure this kiss would never happen.

I’m not the type to pine over a boy I didn’t think I’d ever see again. I got over my crush on him. As much as I love her, I had no desire sit at home each night like Kacey did mooning over Jake. I’ve had other crushes; I’ve dated and even had a few relationships.

That does not mean I ever forgot about Trip Lowell. Seeing him again after all of these years has brought all of those memories to the forefront. This kiss is over ten years in the making.

As fast as our kiss began, it ends. I’m left suddenly cold, the fire extinguished by his retreat. He’s not gone, but he’s moved backward at least three feet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, lifting his hands the same way he did earlier after he startled me.

“What?” I breathe.

“You’re upset. You were crying. I didn’t mean to take advantage of that.”

My brow furrows. “You’re not.”

I take one step toward him and then another. My feet move until he’s right in front of me.

Sliding my hands up his chest, I ask, “Are you against me taking advantage of you?”

It doesn’t take him long to decide. He bends, his hands on my ass, lifting me. My legs circle his waist as I grab onto his shoulders.

His mouth plunders mine. I’m not only along for the ride, oh no, this may be my one and only opportunity to experience him.

My hands roam.

My tongue tangles with his.

My hips push forward against his very apparent hardness.

He carries me across the yard, his step sure without even looking. I’m so distracted I don’t realize where we’ve moved to until he sets my ass down on a picnic table.

He breaks our kiss to ask one final question. “You sure about this?”

I nod, my hands already at work unfastening his jeans.

“Say it,” he commands, and I oblige.

“Yes, I’m sure.”