Chapter 15: Just Like That
Reese
I could barely believe this was happening.
Less than twenty-four hours after seeing Elizabeth again—after months of convincing myself that whatever had happened between us was buried somewhere deep in the past—we were standing in my kitchen with her hand inside my pants like none of that history existed.
Her fingers weren’t even moving. That was the strange part.
She wasn’t teasing me, wasn’t stroking or trying to provoke a reaction the way most women might in a moment like this.
Instead she had simply wrapped her hand around me and held on, as though she were reacquainting herself with something familiar.
She held me as though reacquainting herself with every ridge and vein she used to know. The weight of her palm felt like memory made flesh. My
