The space feels smaller than it should.
Tighter.
Hotter.
Claire leans against the far wall, her gaze lazily tracking me as I press the button for her floor. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t have to. That look in her eyes — teasing, curious, dangerous — says enough.
I focus on the numbers above the door, watching them change slowly.Tooslowly.
Every second is a silent dare, every heartbeat a temptation.
Younger women have never been a problem before.
Hell, they made things easier. Women fresh out of college aren’t looking for a future. They want fun. A night. A distraction. And that’s all I’ve ever been good for.
But everything’s different now that I have a son.
A man who’s not much older than the women I typically spend the night with.
Hell, he’s probably not much older than Claire.
The thought punches me right in the ribs, edged with guilt and regret.
When the elevator slides to a stop on her floor and the doors open once more, I let her step off first, trying to look anywhere but at her.
But when I catch the sway of her hips as she walks, it’s damn near impossible. I can feel my heartbeat increase with every step we take toward her room, the silence in the hallway deafening with the tension building between us.
“This is me,” she whispers, slowing her steps and turning to face me. Her smile is soft, sleepy, but there’s something behind it. Something that hits like a match struck in the dark. “Thanks for walking me back.”
“Of course.” I nod, shifting from foot to foot.
Say goodnight, Declan. Turn around. Walk away.
That’s what I should do.
But I don’t.
Instead, I inch closer.
Close enough to see the faint flush on her cheeks. The gold flecks in her green eyes. The slight part of her lips as she looks at me like she’s not afraid of what might happen next.
Like she’sdesperatefor what might happen next.
I am, too.
My hands ache to touch her. My body physically burns with it, my cock throbbing with a hunger I haven’t experienced in years.
Why now?
Why this woman?
Why tonight?
“Go inside, Claire,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”
The corner of her mouth curls in a slow, dangerous smile. “Who says I’ll regret it?”
Fuck.
