Page 122 of The Wright Man

That single word from me—her name—snapped her out of it.

She blinked, hard, like someone had thrown cold water in her face. Then she stepped back fast, slipping from my arms like smoke, breath catching in her throat.

I let her go. Dropped my hands to the front of my shorts like I was sixteen again and hoping no one would notice how much she fucked me up.

She was trembling. I saw it in the way her hands shook as she fished her keys out of her bag. Eyes wide, darting everywhere but me.

Her keys fumbled in her hand as she tried to unlock her door.

She didn't look at me when she mumbled, "Sorry. I should get back. To work. I—yeah."

She finally got the key in, climbed in quick, like the air outside was suddenly toxic.

"Ang," I said before she could slam the door.

She looked at me then. Really looked. Lust still simmering in her eyes, but confusion creeping in too. Guilt, even.

I swallowed it down. Everything. Took a breath and let the desire fall back into its cage.

"Text me," I said instead of everything else I wanted to say. Instead of I wanted to kiss you. I still want to kiss you. I want to see how far that look would've gone if you didn't stop us.

She nodded once. Breathless. Then drove away like she was escaping a fire.

I watched her taillights disappear down the street, like I always did.

Then I turned and jogged across the street to the house.

Once I was inside, I leaned against the door and let the moment hit me like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

I was reckless. Letting myself get that close without a safety net was stupid. The kind of stupid I didn't usually allow myself to be. Not with her.

I let myself get too comfortable. Too caught up in the way she laughed, the way she looked at me like she was finally letting herself see me.

And I'd seen her too. All of her.

She wanted me. That was obvious now.

And I wanted her back. I'd always wanted her.

But she was married. No matter how broken the marriage was, no matter how unhappy she was in it, no matter how close we'd come to falling into something we couldn't take back—she still had a ring on her finger.

I clenched my jaw and stalked to the bathroom, flicked the shower on to arctic, and stepped inside.

The water didn't help.

It couldn't wash away the way she felt in my arms.

Or the truth I was too scared to say out loud.

If she had kissed me, I would've kissed her back.

No hesitation. No regret.

And that scared the shit out of me.

Chapter Twenty