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The same terrible awareness that whatever was growing between us had no right to exist.

“Do I deserve happiness?” His tone is hushed, fragile.

“Do I?” I volley back.

“Yes.” He ducks until our noses brush.

“Then so do you.” The answer is easy.

He releases my hands, and they fall lamely, rippling the tension between us.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

“I’m sorry.” His words fan my face, and I’m not sure what he means until he spins us.

Until my back presses against the cool door.

Until his harsh lips are on mine.

Until the guilt and chaos of my life come crashing into perspective.

His hand finds my jaw, keeping it in place as he consumes me. His other cups my ass, lifting me against the door and rolling into me.

His hard cock sets fire to the spool in my stomach. And as it burns, the knots turn to ash.

He releases my lips, watching me with hooded eyes. “It’s too late, Cinnamon. You crawled under my skin the second I saw you. I knew in that very instant I had to have you. That you were my destiny. I wanted you so much, I was willing to accept my shame.”

“Prove it.” I roll into his hard cock.

This entire interaction is fragile. Two broken people finding a path towards healing together.

Except they’re in the dark, and neither have any sense of direction.

“Be my future?” I ask him.

His answer is to capture my lips again. His hand tangles in my hair, tugging me even closer to him.

And then he does what I least expect…

65

Mouth Full of Cinnamon

Reuben

The floodgates are open. My cock is painfully hard. And there is a beautiful woman allowing me to map every piece of her body.

Cinnamon.

I can admit, with her lips on mine, how many nights I dreamed of this. How much she consumed my life.

How I couldn’t ever hope to actually establish and further this connection.

I’m too old for her, but I don’t care.

“Reuben,” she groans.

She writhes against the door.