“You don’t think so anymore?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Between her and Dixie… Yeah, I chose the right one.”
“Were those the only choices?”
“At the time… Yeah. I think they were.”
“You’re probably right.” His thumb ghosts over my wrist, like he wants to feel my pulse but doesn’t quite dare to press hard enough.
I swallow hard. “You weren’t ready.”
“No,” he says. “And even if I had been, I would have fucked it up the way I fucked up everything back then. I was a mess.”
“And now?”
“Now… I’m less of a mess.” He laughs under his breath, like it’s just for him, and I find myself dying to know what he’s thinking, what makes him laugh, what made him take me up here, what’s making him stay.
He rolls toward me, pulling his hand away to fold his arm under his head.
“Where is she now?” he asks. “You still together?”
“Nah,” I say. “She’s at Yale now. Last I heard, she’s engaged to some blueblood who has all his shit together. I was never ambitious enough for her.”
“Is that what she said?”
“No,” I admit. “But it’s the truth. I like to go with the flow, never planning too far, because you never know what curveball life will throw your way. That’s what she wanted too, for a little while. Not for the long term. We broke up… It’s been a few years now.”
He’s so close I can hear him swallow. “That’s when you relapsed.”
“Breakups are hard.” I glance at him and then away. He’s too close, and not nearly close enough. “Especially when you have a lot of regrets.”
“What kind of regrets?” he asks, his voice wary.
The laugh that escapes me is low and bitter. “Every kind. What mistakes I made. What might have been.”
“And what’s that?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
I roll to face him too, searching his eyes in the dark, looking for an answer to that.
It doesn’t come in the form of words. Instead, he moves his leg to press against mine.
I push up on my elbow and lean in, until we’re only a breath apart. I can feel the ghost of his lips whispering to mine, the memory like a tattoo on my soul. But I don’t want to kiss the way we used to.
His fingers curl into the front of my jacket, and he pulls me in, closing the space between us. I suck in a breath, tensing for a second when our mouths meet, before every part of me melts into him. His lips are just as soft as I remember, but they’re sure now instead of fearful. I let my weight sink into him, my fingers wrapping gently around his throat as I angle my head to get closer. I flick out my tongue, touching that maddening, plump lower lip, tasting it. His breath comes out half moan, and a shudder of pure heat races over me.
I slide my thigh between his, rocking my hips forward against him, and he makes that sound again, one of wordless, helpless pleasure. It awakens some dark, feral part of me, hearing this huge, cocky man whimper for me. He hooks his leg around mine, pulling me closer, and pushes a hand up under my jacket. With a growl, I bite down on his lower lip, and he arches against me, grinding his hardness against mine.
Just as his cold hand works its way under my shirt, landing on my bare skin, the buzz and hum of the city resumes, and a faint glow rises from below.
“Fuck,” Duke groans, pushing me back.
He sits up and props his arms on his knees, his breathing ragged.
I fight off the disappointment for a minute while I get my raging hard-on under control. We’re alone up here. No one can see us. We could have kept going.
But he didn’t want to.
