Her lips are warm, insistent, tasting faintly of cinnamon. She melts into me, her body curving into mine like she’s alwaysbelonged here. With my hand on her hip, I steer us toward the bedroom, even as my brain screams restraint.
She slides her hands under my shirt, her nails digging into my skin like she owns me.
She damn well might.
I’ve never experienced this before. Never begged for scraps of a woman’s time. Never thought about her with every breath. Never craved her touch so badly I ache when she’s gone.
And still, I can’t stop myself.
“I thought we’d be having lunch,” she teases, her words a husky murmur against my mouth as I fumble with the zipper of her jeans.
“We will,” I rasp, trailing my lips down the elegant line of her jaw to the pulse fluttering at her throat. “But I want my dessert first.”
She laughs, low and throaty. “Naughty boy.”
“You’re about to find out just how naughty I am.”
I make quick work of ridding her of her clothes before throwing her onto my bed. I’m between her legs in mere seconds, treating myself to what I’ve been craving since last night.
The first taste of her cunt undoes me. It’s hunger and reverence, desperation and devotion tangled in one. Every moan she gives me feeds the storm inside until I don’t know where need ends and ruin begins.
And that’s the truth. This woman could absolutely ruin me. Could destroy everything I’m trying to build.
But I meant what I told her this morning. That despite the ramifications, I can’t seem to listen to reason when I’m around her.
I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DECLAN
The streetsof Sycamore Falls are unrecognizable from when I first arrived.
Holiday music drifts from hidden speakers, threading itself through the chatter of the crowd. The scent of kettle corn and roasted chestnuts filters through, mingling with crisp, clean air. Red and green coats, scarves, and knit hats blur into one living stream of color, the sidewalks packed tight with tourists and locals waiting for the annual Christmas parade.
It makes me think of Claire.
These days, everything does.
She’s spent every lunch break with me this past week. Not that we’ve been eating. At least, not food. It’s been the highlight of my day.
Maybe of the entire year.
It shouldn’t be. My sole purpose in staying was to form a relationship with my son.
Not sneak around behind his back and fuck his best friend.
But I can’t help myself.
The second she steps inside my townhouse, the world falls away. She’s not the woman my son once asked to marry. And I’m not the man she can never have.
It’s just her and me, and this intense connection I still can’t explain.
“Sorry it’s a bit of a walk.” Joshua’s voice yanks me back to the present. “It’s easier to park at Holley Ridge than try to find a spot downtown.”
I glance over the sea of people standing shoulder to shoulder along the curb. “I can see why. Quite the turnout.”
“Sycamore Falls loves Christmas. People put out their chairs the night before to save their spot.”
