Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,125

down. Ivy Green’s involvement was too exciting for the media, so Hartwell had been in the news for weeks.

A breathy little moan brought Michael’s head around, and he watched as Dahlia blinked against the light.

Eyes the color of bluebells, ringed by the darkest lashes, gazed sleepily into his. She gave him a cute little smile, her dimple playing peek-a-boo with him. “Hey, you.”

“Hey yourself.” He rolled onto his side. “How’s your shoulder?”

She pushed up to sitting and grimaced. “A little sore.”

“You slept on it. I had to nudge you onto your back.”

Dahlia shot him a saucy look. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

He groaned in frustration. “Don’t start.”

She turned toward him, and he recognized the mischievous glint in her expression. Oh God, save him from this fuckin’ temptress.

Then God did.

Dahlia blinked, her face clouding over. “I just remembered my dream. Ugh. It was not good.” She shot him a filthy look.

Michael sat up, pushing his pillow against the headboard. “I’m guessing I did not behave well in this dream.”

She narrowed her eyes as they dipped down over his naked torso and back up again. “You were on the boardwalk with your ex-wife. I kept calling your name, but this little boy appeared that looked like you and you took his hand and hers and walked away.”

That was a dose of heavy he had not been expecting. “Hey.” He reached for her hand and pulled her gently into him. She rested her head against the headboard, her eyes on their entwined hands. Michael placed his fingers beneath her chin and nudged, forcing her to make eye contact.

“We’ve been through so much shit. You cannot tell me after all of that, you’ve got insecurities about Kiersten.”

Dahlia shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Maybe the dream was more about the kid.” She seemed to hedge and then took a deep breath. It sounded shaky, which made him nervous. “Do you still want kids? With me?”

Honestly, it was something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. But it wasn’t something he needed to deliberate over. The answer was clear. And the thought filled him with so much anticipation, he almost couldn’t stand it. “I want that.” His voice was thick with emotion.

Her smile was slow and a little wobbly. “I gave up on that dream a long time ago because I never wanted marriage and kids unless it was with you. I’m not saying we have to rush into it … I just wanted to know that it’s an option for us.”

He kissed her hard, leaning his forehead against hers. “It’s definitely an option for us.”

They were silent a moment, drinking in the idea of that beautiful future.

Then she whispered, “Do you hear from her? Kiersten? Ever?”

“Nope.” He answered. “When she said she wanted out, she meant completely.”

“Is that not weird for you? Even a little? You did spend four years with her.”

Michael thought about it, knowing his answer mattered more than he wished it did. Finally, he said, “It feels like a weird dream or another life. Nothing feels as real as you.”

I knew my dream about Michael’s ex-wife was only a stupid dream. After the traumas we’d been through, his ex-wife would not be another. But subconsciously, I must’ve worried if it was as easy for Michael to let go of that relationship as he’d let on.

Maybe it was callous of me, but I was glad he’d let Kiersten go as easily as he had. After spending three months living with him, knowing the joy of it—even when he irritated me with his neatness and healthy eating—I was possessive of this knowledge. I hated that another woman had it.

I wanted to erase her from his memory, and that was selfish and Neanderthal-like—and I didn’t care one iota.

His sweet words of assurance melted through me, as did the knowledge that one day we’d have kids. That stoked a fire in me that was unexpected, but welcome. I rose over him, swinging my leg across his opposite hip to straddle him. I ignored the twinge in my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Michael’s voice was hoarse as he gripped my waist.

Schooling my expression, I lifted my T-shirt over my head and stoically avoided flinching at a bite of pain in my shoulder. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I was good to go.

Michael’s hot eyes fell on my breasts, and his hands flexed against my waist. “Dahlia,” he said, “fooling around only.”

I shook my head, so ready to have him inside me, I couldn’t