He chuckles. “That’s okay. You’ll remember next time.”
Next time.
The words hit me hard. Because part of me knows that there shouldn’tbe a next time. And another part of me selfishly wants there to be more Halloweens, Christmases, New Years and Valentine’s Days.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask before I can overthink it. “You’ve been drinking, and I’d hate for you to drive back right now.”
He doesn’t hesitate, nods and says, “Yeah. I’d like that.”
I open the front door of our home. “Gabriel’s working late in the city. Won’t be home until morning. And Eden’s spending the night at a friend’s so we’re all alone.”
“Okay.”
It’s quiet inside. The kind of silence that hums with possibility. For the first time, I feel awkward with him—this strange space between what we’ve been doing and what we’re about to do.
The air thickens. He stands close enough that I can feel his warmth, smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with tequila and something that’s just always beenhim.How does someone go from being a complete stranger, one night stand, to feeling so familiar so quickly?
He tilts his head. “You want to show me your room?”
“Sure.”
I turn and lead him up the carpeted steps that Gabriel swears he’ll replace soon. The old wood creaks beneath our feet, and my pulse feels louder than our footsteps. At the top, I veer left towards my room, the only one that’s tucked down this side of the hall.
When I open the door, he pauses in the doorway, eyes moving slowly over everything. The photos from high school. The trophies collecting dust. My psychology degree framed on thewall. He walks closer, scanning it all like he’s trying to piece together who I was before he met me. Who I am today and why I’m so bent on keeping distance between us.
He lingers on a photo of my parents and me propped up on a dresser. It was from my high school graduation a day filled with so much happiness. It’s a photo I’ll always cherish and one I feel angry that Eden never got to take.
“This is your parents?”
I swallow and nod. “Yes.”
“You look just like your mom.”
My eyes fill with tears that don’t fall. Because the truth is, I’m not the same girl who won those awards or dreamed big with a crowd of friends around her. I might still come off as carefree, easygoing, always ready with an opinion and a witty comeback, but something cracked after my parents died, and it never really healed. I just got better at masking it.
Call it loyalty. Or guilt. Or the need to hold everything together for my family. Maybe it’s all of it tangled up inside me. But whatever it is, it changed me permanently. And if Cain’s trying to figure what that is, he won’t find the answers in this room. He won’t find those answers anywhere.
His gaze lands on my laptop, still open on the bed, the glow of the unfinished post I was writing earlier lighting the screen.
He raises a brow, smirking faintly. “Benefits to orgasms?”
I shrug and smile. “Figured I might start incorporating some of my degree into the posts I’ve been making. Get away from the influencer stuff and attack the male species and their ability to deliver in the bedroom.”
His eyes darken, that quiet smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Seems like you’ve been doing the research.”
“Afraid I’m going to get sued again if I don’t?” I joke.
He moves toward me. “No. But if you were, I’d defend you this time.”
My breath stills. He’s close enough now that I can feel the warmth of him and it hits me how long it’s been since the last time he kissed me. We may have been caught up in his penthouse earlier today, but he didn’t kiss me then. And I miss it.
“Why wouldn’t I just use Leo again?” I whisper, trying to sound unaffected even as my heart starts to sprint.
His hand finds my jaw, his thumb brushing my chin until my gaze lifts to meet his. “Because I’m the best,” he says quietly, like a promise, “and I’d do anything to protect you.”
Before I can respond, his mouth finds mine and he kisses me hard.
It’s not gentle, it’s everything we’ve been pretending not to want. A collision of all the things we’ve tried to bury and avoid. I fist his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer until the space between us is gone. His lips are rough and demanding, tasting of tequila and restraint finally snapped.
