Moonlight catches the delicate line of her jaw. “You made them see me differently.”
“I helped them see the real you, not the dickwad cosplay act.”
“You thought I was a dickwad.”
“I might have been wrong.” She says it simply, without her usual edge. “It happens occasionally.”
“Occasionally?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
The villa comes into view, and I pull the cart to a stop near the front path. She climbs out slowly, and I wonder if she’s as reluctant for this night to end as I am.
I try to remember the last time I had someone besides Sloane in my corner without them being paid to be there. Not Raina, theassistant who manages my schedule, or the lawyers and accountants and advisors who take their cut.
The women I date want access to my world—the private jets, exclusive events, and the lifestyle my bank accounts provide. I’m a means to an end, never the end itself, and I thought that was fine because I appreciate a straightforward transaction.
Avah defended me to a stranger on a beach without knowing it would matter, then spent her evening making me look good to people she’ll never see again. She’s done more for me in a few days than anyone has in years.
My body hums with a longing that feels almost foreign. I want to be worthy of the fierce loyalty she showed tonight. I want other things that I have no right to when it comes to this woman, and reach for her hand without thinking.
Her fingers curl around mine as she turns to face me.
“Avah.”
Her name is all I can manage before leaning in to claim her lips, my hands cradling her face like she might shatter. Or maybe that’s me, as a need deeper than I knew I was capable of rises inside me.
She kisses me back with the same level of passion. For one perfect moment, her lips part beneath mine, and her hands fist in my shirt. She tastes like the mocktail she had at dinner, along with something sweeter I’m not sure I’ll ever stop craving.
Then she pulls away, one hand lifting to cover her mouth, eyes wide with what I can only describe as horror.
Fuck me.
“Avah—”
She shakes her head, then disappears into the villa before I can offer an apology.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I just stand here while my heart pounds, my lips still tingling from a kiss that feels seared into my soul.
Idiot.
The word echoes in my head, followed by a dozen worse ones. A woman does one nice thing for me, and I accost her as a thank you. She’s barely out of an abusive relationship, and I act like I have some right to touch her. As if the kindness she showed tonight was anything other than a debt repaid for the beach rescue.
Apparently, I am the asshat everyone believes me to be.
Good to know.
10
AVAH
I pressmy back against the bedroom door and try to remember how to breathe around the shivers running rampant through my body. It’s like Jeremy Winslow’s mouth rewired every nerve ending I have in one devastating kiss.
The taste of bourbon lingers on my tongue, and I may be a new convert to the dark liquor, because I want more.
Which is absolutely insane.
I’m fresh out of an abusive relationship, camped out in a villa I couldn’t begin to afford, and now I’m hiding in the guest room because I liked how he kisses way too much. What is wrong with me?
