He straightened and looked at me. “You okay?”
“I-I...we.” I had no idea what to say.
He leaned in close, his forehead touching mine. “I told you I wouldn’t be able to stay away, Sia, and I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not going to regret it,” he murmured against my lips. “You don’t have to do anything—” he started to say, but I pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.
My throat burned, tears wanting to squeeze past the constricted tightness. I trailed that finger down over his beard, relishing the tickle against my skin, stopping when I found the throbbing pulse under his chin. Why couldn’t he be someone else’s father? “You don’t understand. I want you...” my voice broke. Drake was so quiet, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I lifted my eyes. He was staring at me with that telltale muscle in his jaw flexing and his eyes burning with an untamed passion. I couldn’t resist. “I want you so much, every part of me quivers at the thought.” I shifted my trembling hand, palming his cheek. “But, I can’t hurt Rayden and don’t think you want to either. His groan reverberated through my body, and before I could move, his lips were on mine once more, his tongue swiping across the closed seam of my lips, begging for entrance until I opened and allowed him in. It wasn’t one of his usual kisses. I felt his resistance before he pulled back.
“Give me just one night with you, Sia.”
My heart slammed against my chest. “What?”
“One night to hold you in my arms again without looking over my shoulder.”
“W—we can’t,” the words faltered on my lips.
“Sia.” His hands tightened on my arms. “I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to fuck you. Jesus, I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe.” He walked away. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides until he turned to face me. “But all I’m asking is an uninterrupted moment to feel you in my arms once more—a moment to say goodbye. I’ve accepted nothing can come of this pain...” he trailed off, the break telling me just how difficult this was for him.
I had no idea how long we stared at each other, my eyes begging for him to understand the chaos playing devil’s advocate with my head and heart before he neared me again, standing so close, I had to tip my head to maintain eye contact. The air left my body in hesitant pants at the intensity he exerted on my lungs just by breathing the same air as me.
“All I want is just an hour or two of you and me.” His warm hands cupped my face. “Please, princess. Give me that.” The raw emotion in his plea had my heart stuttering in my chest.
And even as every nerve in me screamed for me not to do it, to walk away from him, knowing that deep down that once I was in his arms, I’d never want to leave, especially if he was saying goodbye, I nodded. “Okay,” the single word barely audible above my heaving heartbeat. The smile on his face, although slight, made my heart flutter.
I took his hand and followed him out of the kitchen upstairs to his bedroom. Inside, when he stretched out a hand, and I slid down beside him on the bed with my head on his chest, I still couldn’t speak. Not even when he curled that arm around me and drew me tight to his side, unsure what I could say that would make this easier. Saying goodbye tonight would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, more challenging than walking away from him two years ago. Yet we were both comfortable in the silence, seeking solace from each other’s even breathing.
I traced the lines of his tattoo, on the other hand, from his wrist to his neck. Admiring the intricate designs that curved around the head of a wolf on his upper arm. “What do these mean?” I finally broke the quiet.
“The wolf is fearsome.” I smiled, remembering how I’d likened him to a wolf on our second meeting. “He always travels in a pack with an alpha. It signifies leadership, loyalty, and perseverance. He’s also an instinctive animal. The tattoo reminds me to trust my instincts.” He hesitated. “My instincts haven’t failed me yet.”
“And these lines.” I ran my finger over the various shapes.
“Tribal tattoos that signify power, protection, peace, and strength,” he said the last word on a drawn-out sigh, and it had me wondering why.
“You’re a powerful man. Why would you need a reminder for strength?”
His hand on my hip painted slow circles over my skin. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the usual sexual response to his touch but more of a deeper connection. As though his nerve endings seared the skin between us and fused with mine. An indistinct quiver raced across my body.
“After Kyra was born, I discovered my wife’s infidelities. Yet, I stayed with her for the kids. By the time I decided on a divorce, it was too late. My father was a hard man, and divorce has never been heard of in my family name. Trent’s father, Joshua, divorced, and it caused ripples in our family circle, which took time to heal. My father had a stroke putting an end to my desire to be rid of my wife. I got the tattoo then, reminding me to remain strong. I had two kids who were dependent on my state of mind, to guide them, nurture them.” I picked up on the hurt in his voice. He had a complicated past, but he was so strong for it. Perhaps the tattoo worked after all. He began speaking again. “I had one desire. To be the best father. Then I met you, and that desire changed. For the first time in a long while, I wanted to live again, to satiate what I wanted, to smile without restraint.” There was no accusation in his tone, merely an insight into what he’d searched for. Yet, I couldn’t give him what he desired most. “Does that make me a bad father?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
So heavy, it made my heart vibrate. I fisted my hand. “No,” I whispered against his chest.
“Yet, I can’t have one without breaking the other.”
Only after pushing up onto my elbow to gaze down at him did I realize it was a mistake. Looking at him, his pain evident in his glazed eyes and tensed jaw, all I wanted to do, was comfort him. To hold him tight and tell him it would be all right to make false promises. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him—molding my mouth to his in the softest of kisses. He inhaled sharply, and his grip on my waist tightened, yet the resistance in his lips was still there. As though he were holding back. This was taking a lot out of him.
I pulled back. “I’m sorry for walking out on you that morning. For not saying goodbye. For not giving you a chance—not giving us a chance.” I swallowed the dryness in my mouth. “But, when I saw that text, I knew you could never be mine, no matter—”
“Wait. What text?”
“From Angela that she was still your wife.”
His brow creased, he sat up. “Are you kidding me?” His whole body drew taut.
It was my turn to frown. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and began pacing the room. Then he stopped. Hands on his hips, he stared at me. Anger carved his face into a scowl. “You left because of a stupid fucking text?”
I recoiled at the irritation in his voice. Given what he’d gone through, perhaps it was warranted. Only, I could do nothing about that now. “I’m sorry.” I slipped off the bed and headed for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
