Page 14 of Disavowed

“Fuck, I can’t help it.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “No matter who she is, I always get to a point where I feel like the walls are closing in on me, but with Daisy—”

“With Daisy what?” Cassie asked softly.

He couldn’t say it, didn’t quite believe it, and he let the words hang unsaid. That one night at Daisy’s place, he’d actually prayed he wouldn’t get a work call. Because for the first time in over fifteen years, he’d wanted to stay the night. But when his cell phone had buzzed with the text he thought would never come—The op is a go—the words were like an ice bath over his head, dousing any notions he may have been entertaining in the recesses of his mind about staying the night. Then he’d felt a boatload of things he hadn’t expected.

Sorrow. Disappointment. Desperation. In the end, he’d accepted it, and when the accustomed relief came rushing back he knew it was for the best. He had nothing to offer a woman. Nothing good, anyway.

Cassie walked over and gave him a brief hug. “You’ll figure things out.”

Organ music drifted into the room, indicating that the ceremony would be starting shortly.

“I have to go.” She squeezed his forearm and then left through the door to the other room.

Dom picked up the uncapped bottle of makeup on the table. It was a good thing they’d been interrupted and an equally good thing Daisy wanted nothing to do with him. As long as she hated him, he could keep his distance. Because he’d never forgotten her, or how quickly he’d been on the verge of falling for her.

Setting the makeup bottle back on the table, he shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Her scent was all around him. In the air. On his clothes. In his lungs. The same as it had been a year ago.

The connection between them had been undeniable. Cosmic, even. It had all happened so fast and so naturally. One minute they’d been talking, then he was kissing her, touching her, stripping off her clothes and making love to her. Cassie was right. Daisy had rocked his world. Describing what they’d shared as one night of hot, amazing sex didn’t do it justice. It was far more than that, and he damn well fucking knew it. He’d known it then. He knew it now.

They’d made earth-rocking, soul-shattering love. The kind a man never forgets. Whatever had been between them was still there. Like a snapping, crackling fire that had been banked, just waiting for a light breeze to stir up the embers, rekindling into a steady roar. But that was something he could never allow to happen. For personal reasons, and because it was too dangerous to be anywhere near him.

As he left the room to stand at Gray’s side, he forced himself to face a painful fact. Making love with Daisy was a gift to be remembered and cherished. Yet never repeated.

Chapter Four

Daisy watched Alex and Gray take their first dance as husband and wife to the tune of Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle.”

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful and perfect. For her, the most poignant part was when she glimpsed the all-consuming love and adoration in the groom’s eyes. The moment had her tearing up. Luckily, that had helped to take her mind off Dom and what had nearly happened in the dressing room.

When he’d pulled her onto his lap, she could feel his touch shoot straight to her core, and for a fraction of a second, she’d wanted to cling to him and feel his lips on hers. If only the man’s kisses hadn’t been as darned memorable as the rest of him.

Hot and wet as he’d licked greedily into her mouth, his lips moving over hers with just the right amount of pressure. Tender one moment, possessive and demanding the next, with an erotic, feral urgency. To this day, she still recalled how his deep, rumbly voice telling her how sexy she was and how good she tasted had sent shivers of delight to her belly.

Stupid thoughts, but there they were, clear as day in her equally stupid brain. Throughout the ceremony she’d felt his eyes on her, and she was proud of herself for not staring back.

She was particularly proud of herself as he’d escorted her back up the aisle at the end of the ceremony. She’d been forced to link arms with him, to feel all that sinewy muscle beneath her fingers and inhale his delicious aftershave. Her body had vibrated with annoyance and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Whatever it was, it made her feel alive in a way she didn’t want to feel.

They’d managed to get through the wedding party photos without spilling any blood. Which was good, damn good. Dom was on his best behavior during the photo shoot, but he seemed on edge. He’d repeatedly clenched his jaw, and when he put his arm around her for the maid of honor–best man shot, she could feel his body strung tighter than a rubber band.

Now, seated in the reception hall, Daisy’s eyes glistened as she witnessed the joy and love in Alex and Gray’s first dance. Alex deserved every happiness, and Daisy’s heart swelled with joy for her friend at the same time her throat tightened with sadness. Would she ever find that kind of love?

As the dance came to an end, everyone clapped heartily, then the emcee called for the rest of the bridal party to join in. Daisy’s heart raced, wishing she could bow out of the traditional dance, but she didn’t want to make a scene. From the obvious reluctance on Dom’s face as he walked toward her, she gathered he was thinking the same thing.

Before she could evade his embrace, he clasped one of her hands and she had no choice but to put her other hand on his shoulder to keep from falling on her ass again. When he gazed down at her and his lips twisted into a cocky grin that irritated the hell out of her, she stomped her heel on his foot and was rewarded with a muted curse.

“Daisy.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m warning you. Be a good girl.”

“I am a good girl.” She smiled up at him sweetly, delighting in the way he was grimacing. Nothing like a three-inch heel to put a guy in his place. “I just don’t want you to harbor any misguided notions that I might actually enjoy dancing with you.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.” He glared down at her for a moment, then as the band began playing Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” he swung her onto the dance floor.

Even with a slight limp he was an unexpectedly smooth dancer. A pang of guilt made her regret stomping on his foot. Not only was it childish but she shouldn’t have done anything to hurt him more than he already was. “Are you ever going to tell me why you’re limping?”

“No,” he said flatly. “But I’m touched that you care.”

“I don’t.” Vaguely, she realized she did. “I’m merely curious.”

“Relax, Ms. Fowler.” He nuzzled her cheek with his chin. “Try pulling in your claws long enough to enjoy the dance.”