She looks down at him, eyes softening. “You want me to sit with you?”
He nods.
Emotion flashes across her face so deeply, I feel it everywhere. She slides into the booth beside him, and Lev pulls in closer and leans into her arm, testing first, then settling his head against her. She freezes for half a second, her eyes widening at me. But I can’t move. I just watch them, something thick lodged in my throat.
Her arm wraps around him as she lowers her head so her temple rests against the top of his, and he looks like he could stay that way forever, his eyes drifting closed.
Every part of me reacts to the sight, even while it kills me. Because she isn’t his mother. She’s just the woman who serves us food, and the more he lets himself attach to her, the worse it will be if she ever walks away.
I can’t let him get hurt. Which means I won’t let her leave. Not at any cost.
Her hand brushes my thigh as she shifts—barely a touch, but it hits like a live wire, sinking straight into my bones until it’s the only thing I can feel. The only thing I want.
She inhales sharply, eyes lifting to meet mine, lips parting like she’s just remembered how to breathe. Her gaze drops to mymouth, and she bites the inside of her cheek like she’s picturing the same thing I am.
The urge to kiss her hits harder, right here in this booth with my son between us, and the sheer wrongness of it does nothing to dull the need. Images of me fucking her still flood my mind.
Her fingers start to pull away, like she’s trying to avoid touching me again, but I catch her wrist before she can go anywhere and bring it to my mouth. I press my lips to the top of her hand like a man starved for something he knows he shouldn’t want, but taking it anyway. Her eyes flare, a bright, unmistakable flicker passing through them before she goes still, her chest rising higher as I hold the kiss a beat longer than I should.
When I pull back, my fingers trace circles across her hand. The fine hairs on her arm lift beneath my touch, her breathing turning shallow, every inch of her body reacting like she’s barely holding herself together.
Lev stays tucked against her, completely unaware, while I sit here with her hand in mine like it’s mine to hold. Knowing damn well I shouldn’t have crossed this line.
And I’m already wondering how the hell I’m supposed to step back now that I’ve touched her at all.
SLOANE
His hand stays wrapped around mine, like letting go isn’t even an option. And the worst part is how quickly my body accepts it, how easily it sinks into that touch like it’s been waiting for him all along.
A low hum moves through me, every cell lighting up in response. And all I can think about is how much I don’t want him to stop touching me.
Kirill looks at me like he’s starving, like he’s one breath away from losing whatever control he has left. Heat rushes to my face, and I have to fight the urge to pull my hand back. Because the way his thumb moves against my skin makes my stomach twist and my thighs tense, and none of it should be happening.
Get it together. Your life is too complicated to get involved with anyone right now, even if he wanted you.
“How do you know Jace?” Kirill’s question cuts through the haze of my thoughts, his body rigid.
“I don’t,” I say quickly. “Not really. Mandy works at Blackthorn Ridge on the weekends and she mentioned they might need help. I just…I need extra money, and they happen to have a Friday shift available.”
He works his jaw as I go on, eyes searing into me.
“Jace told me to stop by on Sunday and talk to his sister, Greer. I don’t know if you know her, but?—”
“I do.”
His tension spikes instantly. I feel it in the way his hand stills, in the way his jaw tightens just enough to notice, and it sends a ripple of unease through me.
His eyes stay on me for a little longer, and the silence stretches until it starts to turn heavy. Whatever’s going on between those two, I don’t think I want to know.
Lev leans closer, his shoulder pressing into my side, and I instinctively curl toward him, remembering each time Milo would curl into me like that. The agony of missing him slams into me so hard, tears gather in my eyes. Kirill must notice, because his thumb brushes across my hand.
And all I want is to get lost in him, lost in all the feelings he brings out in me without even knowing it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SLOANE
Driving past Camille’s house—ourhouse—is the worst kind of torture. It only takes ten minutes to get there, and somehow that’s enough time for my stupid heart to hope. Hope that maybe, even this late, Milo will be at the window, his little face pressed to the glass like he’s waiting for me.
