Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(102)

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs under his breath. “It’s been a long time.”

So, it’s the latter of those two options. But who remembers every little part of a person they had sex with six years ago?

Well, I do, but that’s because I haven’t been with anyone else since him.

“But I still remember everything,” he says.

“It’s been an awfully long time, Rio. Are you sure you’re remembering correctly?”

His brow furrows. “Did you not believe me when I told you I picture you whenever I’m getting myself off? Do you think I made up an image of what I thought you looked like? No. Your body has been ingrained in my mind since I got to see it for the first time when I was nineteen. I remember everything.”

Reaching out, he cups my elbow, his index finger running over a bit of raised skin. “I know you have a scar right here from falling off your bike when you were eleven.”

“Well, I’d hope you remember that. It was your fault. You were going too fast, and I was trying to keep up.”

Chuckling, he wraps his other hand around my hip, running the pad of his thumb over the inner part of my upper thigh. Even though I’m still wearing this satin skirt I can practically feel the warmth of his skin on mine, and it sends a rush of heat about two inches north, right where I wish he were touching me instead.

“I know you have a freckle right here.” He softly strokes that same spot. “That I loved to lick before I tasted the rest of you.”

Jesus.

He steps into me, trailing his lips along my jaw and down my neck until they meet the dip that connects with my shoulder.

“And I know that when I bite right here . . .” He does exactly that, pulling an instant whimper from my lips. “You’ll make that fucking noise.”

I’m writhing into him with my head thrown back as he kisses a path across my throat and up my jaw until he finds my mouth again.

“So yes, baby, I remember everything. Including all my favorite ways to make you come.” He runs his thumb over the lace of my bra. “I was staring because I can’t get over how innocent you look in white when we both know that you’re not.”

I hum. “That’s your fault too.”

He smiles against my skin, dragging his warm, wet lips over every inch of my neck and collarbone, his thumb still drawing languid strokes against the fabric of my bra, but I want his skin on mine, so I reach back to unclasp it.

But before I can, Rio has his arms around my waist, his hands covering mine to stop me.

There’s an overwhelming sense of déjà vu from the very first time we did this together.

“Are you nervous?” he whispers.

I shake my head no. “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

I softly smile up at him as he draws small circles on my spine, but still he doesn’t undo the clasp.

He watches me for a long moment, toying with the fabric back there, until eventually he pulls his hand away, leaving my bra in place.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head to tell me nothing before reaching over his head to take his shirt off in one fluid motion, tossing it to the floor.

He’s stunning. Tan skin, defined but lean muscles, and ink. Black and sprawling over his left side. And when he doesn’t make a move to touch or kiss me again, I realize he’s waiting for me to look at it in more detail.

There are a few tattoos, and I’d call all of them new because they’re new to me, but I couldn’t tell you what the others are. My attention is fixated on only one.

“Hallie,” Rio says tentatively. “Say something.”

I can’t. I’m speechless. Because how am I supposed to speak when my eyes are glued to what is essentially my last name, tattooed as a heart, inked over his actual heart?

Hesitantly, I reach out, gently running my fingers over the black ink, following the curves and the dip until I stop to cover the overdrawn portion where it was supposed to stop, but never did.

My heart.

His heart, really, when I think about how many times he fixated on my signatures from the mixtapes and CDs I gave him.

It’s my favorite part.

“In case you’re still wondering if I ever forgot about you,” he says softly, “I got this three years ago. Three years after I saw you last.”

“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that, Hal.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I can’t stop running my fingers over it, pausing at the same point where he used to stop. It’s an exact replica of my handwriting and everything, clearly taken from one of those tapes or CDs.

“Because it’s always been us.” With his knuckle, he tilts my chin up so I look at him. “Even when I thought I didn’t want it to be, I knew it was us. I sat there getting this permanently inked onto my skin, trying to convince myself I was only getting it as a reminder that love existed when the whole fucking time, I knew it only existed with you.”

Well . . . shit.

His complete and utter honesty has my lips falling open. It has my heart racing and my skin heating.

I didn’t know being someone’s everything could be such a turn-on.

I run my fingers down, brushing over his ribs and abs, tracing the lines of that V that may as well be a road map to his dick. I unclasp his pants, unzip the fly, and push them over his stupidly perfect ass, past his thick thighs, until they’re pooling at the floor.