It’sher. All of her. Being with her makes me act like someone I don’t recognize.
Like when I told her about my past.
I’ve never shared that story with anyone. Not the ugly, raw truth about my mother’s death and the way my father looked at me afterward. I usually keep it short. Tell people I lost my mother when I was young and let them fill in the blanks howeverthey want. But with Claire… I wanted her to know.Neededher to know.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Her phone chimes, sharp and intrusive against the quiet. She shifts in my arms, and for a selfish second I consider holding her tighter, keeping her pinned to me so she can’t move. But she slips free and rolls over, grabbing her cell off the nightstand, a groan escaping her.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice low.
“It’s Dylan. She’s on her way home. I should probably go.”
“You don’t have to. You could?—”
“We both know I do.” Her eyes soften with something like hope, but her tone is firm.
“Yeah,” I agree, albeit reluctantly. “You’re right.”
She slides out of bed, the sheets dragging over my skin as she leaves, taking her heat with her. I watch her in silence as she moves around the room, collecting her clothes and pulling them on.
It’s not the first time I’ve shared my bed with someone and watched them leave afterward. Usually, I’m fine with it. Hell, Ipreferit. No messy attachments. No lingering. No promises I have no intention of keeping.
But this feels wrong. Like there’s something unfinished between us.
“Maybe we can?—”
“It’s okay.” She cuts me off before I can finish whatever I was going to say. What that is, I’m not quite sure.
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Whatever you were about to say… It’s okay.” She pulls her t-shirt over her head and meets my gaze. “I knew what this was when I got into bed with you, Declan. We’re both consenting adults, and tonight was incredible. But there’s no need to turn this into something it’s not and can never be.”
I know she’s right. Know this can never become anything more than it already is. Hell, tonight shouldn’t have happened in the first place. The best thing I can do right now is let her go.
But when she turns from me and starts toward the door, that’s easier said than done. I’m up and across the room in two long strides, catching her wrist and tugging her against me.
Her breath hitches, green eyes locking on mine, full of questions I don’t have answers to. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I do know one thing.
I can’t let her leave without one more taste.
I crash my mouth down on hers, hard and unrestrained. There’s too much I want to tell her. Too much I shouldn’t. So I let the kiss say it all instead. The craving. The frustration. The dangerous pull between us neither of us can seem to fight but know we need to.
I tear myself away before I lose the last of my restraint, breathing hard. My hand lingers against her jaw for one more second, memorizing the shape of her face beneath my palm. Then I step back, releasing her from my hold.
She turns to leave again. This time, I let her, watching as she disappears down the hallway.
When I hear the sliding door close, the entire townhouse feels colder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CLAIRE
I’m late.
Not by much, but enough to put me in full-on power walk mode down the icy sidewalk of Main Street, my boots clicking in a staccato rush, my scarf hanging half-wrapped because I couldn’t be bothered to loop it properly.
Normally, I’m up before my alarm goes off. Today, I hit snooze. Twice. It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes when that stupid chime went off.
