“Too late.”
I turned and walked away before I could second-guess myself.
Halfway down the block, curiosity won. I glanced back.
He was still standing there.
Watching me go.
And the look in his eyes promised this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
12
KANE
Iwalked away from the café like a man on autopilot.
One foot in front of the other. Turn left. Keep moving. Don't look back.
The paper with her number in my pocket was like a live grenade with the pin already pulled.
I couldn't believe I hadn't done it.
Couldn't believe I'd just sat there across from her—this woman who'd looked me dead in the eye and saidyouwith zero hesitation, zero doubt—and let her walk away. Let her stand up, thank me politely like we'd just discussed the weather, and disappear down a Paris street like she hadn't just turned my entire morning upside down.
Like she hadn't just offered herself.
Like I hadn't been imagining what she'd feel like under my hands since the moment our eyes met in that clinic waiting room and something primal in my brain had whisperedmine.
I should have taken her hand. Should have pulled her up from that table and out into the street without a word. Found thenearest hotel. The nearest anything with a door that locked and a bed—or a wall, or a floor, didn't fucking matter.
I should have kissed her until she stopped thinking clearly. Until that careful, polished composure cracked wide open and all that heat I'd seen simmering behind her eyes spilled out, uncontrolled.
I should have fucked her until she forgot her own name. Until grief and loss and bureaucratic nightmares became distant background noise. Until the only thing she could focus on was me and what I was doing to her body and how good I could make her feel if she'd just let me.
But I didn't.
And now I was walking back to the Sanctuary alone, hard as iron and furious with myself for reasons I couldn't fully name.
It wasn't lack of attraction.
Far from it.
I wanted her. Badly. In a way that felt almost violent in its intensity. The kind of want that made rational thought difficult. That made every other consideration fade into background noise. That made me consider doing reckless, stupid things just to get closer to her.
Things I knew better than to consider.
So, why the hell hadn't I acted on it?
I turned down another street, barely registering where I was going, letting muscle memory guide me back toward the townhouse. Paris moved around me—cars honking, pedestrians rushing to work, the faint smell of bread from a bakery I passed—but none of it registered properly.
My mind was still in that café.
Still watching the way her lips curved when she said it. The way her pupils dilated. The slight hitch in her breath, like the confession had surprised even her. Like she'd meant to be more careful but couldn't help herself.
I guess I go after what I want.
