I’ve never needed a man like I need him now.
Right here, right now, dust and darkness and worries be damned.
His hand slides up my shirt, grazing bare skin.
His hands are so hot, incandescent, and he inhales softly against my mouth.
“Fuck, duchess. The things I want to do to you could put me in prison.”
I bite my lip like the thirsty little deviant I am.
His dirty talk must be devastating.
I raise a leg and he catches my knee, pulling my legs open, and shit.
Holy flaming shit, I’m losing my mind.
“Dad?” Daniel’s voice shakes my vision.
Kane freezes against me.
His hand squeezes my thigh almost painfully. I can practically taste his reluctance.
“Daaaad!”
Yep, we’re dead.
I’m grateful he doesn’t rip himself away too fast or I’d hit the floor again. There’s a tent pitched in his jeans as he shifts his belt.
Scrambling, I finger comb my hair and tug my shirt down, pressing everything back into place and trying not to look at him.
Oh, man.
Thesekids.
Two very big little reasons why secret attic kissing should not be happening.
And one of those reasons starts coming up the ladder, stepping on the bottom stair and straining to look up.
I wipe a shaky hand over my mouth, grateful I didn’t bother with lipstick today, trying to pull myself together.
Dan will be a distraction, at least, and I need one ASAP.
If Kane keeps looking at me like that, all dark and dangerous, I’m going to lose my calm.
We can’t, we can’t,we can’t.
The boy pokes his head up through the small door a few seconds later, bewildered. He gets a lungful of the dusty attic and grimaces.
“Oh, yikes! It smells like Grandma’s garage in here,” he says, coughing. “And we’re getting hungry. Is it almost dinnertime?”
I’m already moving, brushing past Kane, who remains stock-still.
I don’t dare look at him, even as my body drifts past his.
If I could just rewind time and—
No, don’t think about it.
