chapter ten
They walked out of the supplier’s office with a signed contract.
One more to go.
Pride burned deep. It had taken many hours, but she’d gotten the majority to agree to a further 5 percent reduction. With Anthony Moretti on board, it was much easier to convince them to agree as a group and make this the first large-scale experiment working with a big property developer.
Tristan had been brilliant.
He let her lead, but his support was crucial. When the suppliers came back with complaints, he pondered their comments with a thoughtfulness that caused them to feel respected. She always admired his patience. It was a completely underrated virtue, but Tristan never made final decisions without carefully weighing all the options. That hard-won patience made him a brilliant businessman.
And in the bedroom, it made him a devastating lover.
They walked down Main Street. The lunch crowd was out, grabbing caffé mochas and paninis as they strolled the quaint sidewalks. Shop doors were flung open, even with the brisk air, and boats cut smoothly through the calm waters to head out to bigger horizons.
“Need to take a break?”
She hadn’t slept enough, had grabbed only a protein bar and apple for breakfast, and was still jumpy in his presence. But damned if she’d allow him to see weakness. “No. I’m good. Let’s go.”
They hit the last supplier, made their presentation, and closed the deal. In the hours they were gone, she fielded desperate calls from Charlie, who was just learning the office routine, and Dalton, who thought he’d already invoiced the order for teakwood but never received it. She managed to text her sitter to make sure Sydney got off the bus okay and chat with her daughter regarding getting her homework done earlier rather than later.
She rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off the faint headache threatening. She’d have to find a decent way to deal with the higher stress load. Maybe she should take up working out with Xavier with Raven. Maybe punching the crap out of a bag would make her feel like a limp biscuit and she wouldn’t care if she dropped one of the balls she constantly juggled in the air.
“You okay?”
His gentle concern bothered her. “Fine. I can handle this.”
“Never said you couldn’t. I just know you do that when you’re getting a headache. Follow me.”
He turned into the Millennium Café and ordered her a cappuccino with skim, an almond biscotti, and a bottle of water. After leading her over to a small bistro table, he sat down across from her and snapped open his leather briefcase. “I should have insisted we stop for lunch.” He reached in and pulled out a bottle of Advil. Shaking out two tablets, he held out his palm. “Here. Take these.”
Frustration nipped. How did he still know her so well? She had low blood sugar, and a skipped meal could occasionally affect her with a brutal headache. When they had been dating, she’d loved the way he fussed over her and made sure she’d had regular meals. Now it only made her feel silly, like she didn’t know how to take care of her own self.
He raised an eyebrow as if he knew her stubborn thoughts, then motioned toward the pills. Like a good girl, she took the tablets with a sip of water and began nibbling at the cookie.
“I hate when you act superior,” she grumbled. “I can handle a simple headache, Tristan. I’m not going to fall apart or wither onto the ground.”
He studied her with a sharp, assessing gaze, those gorgeous golden eyes roving over her features, then dropping to take in the snug fit of her polished black suit. Immediately her nipples tightened into hard points, and she squeezed her thighs together in punishment. He’d always had a way of looking at her as if he owned her. As if he knew he could casually slip his hand under her skirt, in a public place, and she wouldn’t be able to tell him no.
She’d never been able to tell him no.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes widened in shock. Had he just apologized? “I keep forgetting you don’t need me to tell you things any longer. Not when to eat or how to close a deal, or what to say to a difficult customer. I just don’t like to see you in pain if I can help it, Sydney. That’s all this is about.”
His tenderness ripped away her strong protective walls, leaving her flapping back and forth in a restless wind. The fight left her body. This was the Tristan who’d stolen her heart. The one who deeply cared about the people around him and would do anything to keep them from harm. He was a caretaker, a peacemaker, and a man who loved to give. That was the man staring back at her right now, and there was no way she could turn from him.
“Then I’ll just say thank you.”
His full lips curved in a warm smile. She smiled back, cupping her mug between her hands, enjoying the sweet, hot brew. Silence settled around them like a comfy blanket. He checked his phone, his fingers flying over the screen in a flurry of texts. She took advantage of his distraction to study him with leisurely pleasure while she sipped her coffee.
“Now that we have everyone on board, are we ready to meet Adam on Friday?”
“Yes. Becca is sleeping over at her friend’s house after school, so I’m covered. Bring on the traffic.”
He grinned. “Slumber party, huh? Figured that wouldn’t start until her early teens.”
“There’re only two people I’d trust to allow her to sleep over, besides Morgan. I know the parents well, and they’re like family.”
“I wasn’t judging,” he said quietly. “I had no idea how hard it was until I got a taste Saturday night.” His face held a touch of apology. “I have a new level of respect for you being a single mom. She’s a great kid, and you’re amazing with her.”
Intensity lit the air between them. Warmth flowed through her. “Thanks.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember there’s no rule book for this. And the mom culture can be a bit judgy. Add that to the usual maternal guilt, and I’m a real bundle of fun.”
“Actually, you are. Watching you go apeshit on Bad Mom was hearty entertainment.”
She dropped her head into her open palm. “That wasn’t me at my best. I’m usually so much more restrained.”
“I always enjoyed when you lost your temper. Remember how pissed you were when I came to help when you had the flu last year?”
She groaned at the memory. “I wanted to kill you. You didn’t even call me! Just showed up looking like you were going to some fancy party, with a container of soup in your hand. Meanwhile, I was in three-day-old pj’s, sported crazy hair, and hadn’t brushed my teeth.”
“You were scary, but it wasn’t your appearance. When I tried to get in, you practically handicapped me with the door, and that was you in weak form.”
Humiliation burned. She’d barely been able to function, and he’d looked like Daniel Craig playing James Bond, all unruffled and sexy, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves like he was about to get dirty. “Never surprise a woman when she’s sick and ugly.”
“You’ve never been ugly a day in your life.” His soft words brought a flush of pleasure and a touch of sudden shyness. They hadn’t said nice things to each other in a long time. “And it just showed me how strong you really are. I ran over there because I figured you wouldn’t be able to take care of Becca. But I was wrong. You had it handled.”
“Then why did you stay?”
He’d spent the night on the lumpy couch. He’d done her laundry and left it all neatly folded in the basket. Becca slept nonstop, so he’d kept watch so Sydney could also get some sleep. The kind gesture only angered her further. She hadn’t wanted him to be involved in any part of their lives, and by busting in to help, he’d tipped the scales. It was a dangerous game she hadn’t wanted to play, so her fear came out as anger. When she’d woken up, she’d immediately thrown him out.
“Because you needed a break. I was figuring out you really could do it all. I just didn’t want you to be forced to.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. He gazed at her with sudden warmth and openness, and her heart squeezed. What was happening? His words broke her apart and put her back together. Isn’t that what every woman wanted a man to recognize? Some shift had occurred since her confession Saturday night—a deeper understanding and connection—and she didn’t know how to handle it.
Her voice emerged like she was talking through sticky peanut butter. “We’d better go.”
He waited a bit, assessing her reaction, then nodded. She smothered her sigh of relief. “Sure. Let’s head back to the office to do an assessment, then call it a day.”
She followed him out, trying to ignore the faint clang of warning in her brain telling her she hadn’t escaped the danger.
She’d just delayed it.
On Friday, they strode out of the Cushman Real Estate offices with a signed contract for Pierce Brothers.
It had been a hell of a week, but they’d done it. Tristan noticed she looked a bit shell-shocked, but she’d hidden it deftly the entire meeting. When they exited the conference room and made their way down in the elevator, they hadn’t talked. Walking out of the twenty-story building back into the March wind, they still didn’t say a word. And when they stopped in front of the hot dog vendor at the Avenue of the Americas, they finally turned to each other and slowly grinned.
“We did it.”
“Hell yes, we did it,” he said. “Congratulations. You’ve just closed your first huge business deal, Ms. CFO.”
The new Sydney he was finally getting to know was more controlled and didn’t exhibit impulsive behavior. As much as he sometimes mourned the raw passion and enthusiasm of the past, his respect and fascination for the grown woman overpowered his memories. But when she let out a rip-roaring yell of victory and jumped into his arms, he tumbled hard for the entire package.
He was still crazy about this woman.
He caught her as she flew through the air and spun her around in the midst of the jaded city crowd. Eyes glowing with delight, she hugged him in triumph, the barrier between them ripped down in the joy of the moment. Tristan closed his eyes and savored the feel of her soft curves cradled against him, the smell of orange blossoms from her skin, the silky caress of her hair against his cheek. When he finally set her down, he already grieved the loss.
“I want two hot dogs!” she announced. “With toppings. And a Coke!”
“Now you’re scaring me,” he teased, quickly putting in his order with the vendor, who already looked impatient at their exchange. Every other woman he knew would have insisted on an expensive lunch with crystal and champagne to celebrate such a deal. But Syd liked the simple things as much as the fancy stuff. In her view, it was all magnificent because she had an uncanny ability to enjoy her life in the moment, no matter what it brought.
They sat on a bench and ate their dogs, slurping soda from the can and discussing the highlights of the meeting. It was the type of work Tristan had always craved. A perfect combination of real estate and design. The knowledge that Sydney would be involved in each step made the journey even more satisfying. Wasn’t that what he had always wanted in life? A woman to be by his side every step of the way? A woman who could match him, challenge him, and accept him for all the good and bad and in-between? Wasn’t that what every man dreamed of somewhere deep inside, during the night, where no one could judge the empty ache that seemed impossible to fill with short affairs and satisfying work?
It was time to show her how serious he was about moving their relationship forward. It was time to roll the dice and make his play. Tonight.
“Tristan?”
He turned toward her, shaken from his thoughts. “Yeah?”
“Not tonight, Rambo.”
He jerked, spilling his soda over his fingers. Shock held him immobile. “What did you just say?”
She tossed him a teasing smile. “You’ve got that really intense look you get when you’re planning a big coup. Your eyes squint up and you press your lips together, and you look kind of mad.”
That was his sexy face? Ugh. He needed to work on a better seduction technique. Still, at least she hadn’t guessed the real reason for his focus. “Never realized you knew my habits so well.”
She shrugged. “We’ve known each other a long time. I also know when you lie.”
Now, that was a terrifying thought. He gave a fierce frown. “Do not.”
Was that a giggle that escaped or just his imagination? “Your left eyebrow hikes up.”
Holy shit. Was she right? No one had ever told him before. Was that how his mother had always known when he skipped school, hit his brothers, or snuck in after curfew? “That’s ridiculous. You’re bluffing.”
She shrugged, but her face danced with delight. “Think whatever you want. I’m just playing fair and warning you. Anyway, back to your intense face. Take the night off before you try to get off on another project.”
This time he choked on his own spit, causing him to fall into a coughing fit. Crap, he had to get out of here. He was beginning to spiral down. “Good idea. How about we head to My Place to celebrate? My brothers will be there.”
She stood up, discarding her trash and brushing off the crumbs from her red power suit. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to head home. I need to catch up on some serious sleep. It’s been a long week.”
He wanted to try to change her mind to extend his time with her, but she was right. She needed a night to relax on her own, especially since Becca was over at a friend’s house.
But that wouldn’t change his plans for later.
They drove home, but this time their trip was filled with chatter and discussion instead of charged silence. He turned into her driveway, noting her porch light flickering on and off.
“Thanks for driving. I’ll touch base with you and— What are you doing?”
He’d already climbed out of the car. “Walking you to the door. It’s dark, and your light is out.”
She slammed the car door and walked over to him. Her lips twitched in a smile. “I know how to change a lightbulb.”
“So do I. Becca’s not home, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe inside. You should get a dog.”
She sighed but let him accompany her. “I have an alarm, and don’t you dare mention your thoughts to Becca. She’s been torturing me. Who knew you were such an old-fashioned guy? You wouldn’t even let me pay for the hot dogs.”
“That was on the company account.”
She laughed and opened the door before quickly tapping out the code to her alarm. He looked around the rooms, enjoying the simple comfort and warmth the feminine decor gave a visitor. His space was kept ruthlessly neat and organized, but he liked the joyous clutter of Sydney’s home. These were rooms well lived in, played in, laughed in. Every object was used and held some sort of statement, from the Disney snow globes to the colorful vases filled with cheerful daisies and the explosion of vibrant throw pillows. A painting of a rowboat washed ashore on the beach hung slightly askew. The kitchen table held piles of books and crayon kits, a red Nintendo DS, glittery nail polish bottles, and three stuffed animals in shocking pink.
“Sorry, it’s always a bit of a mess.” She rummaged around in the closet and removed a bulb. “See, I got it covered.”
“I’ll change it for you.”
“You don’t have— Okay.” She broke off when he plucked the bulb from her hand and went outside. It took him only a few minutes to change it out, and he was surprised at the satisfaction from such a simple task. Underneath his civilization lurked a caveman, content to take care of his woman. He returned with the empty package and stuffed it in the recyclables.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said.
“Where’s my meat?”
His sense of humor was sometimes odd. Like his brothers, Sydney had always gotten it, and she laughed right away, catching the reference. Why did it make him so happy to know there was still a connection between them? Why did occupying the same space as her make him feel so damn complete?
“Would you settle for a drumstick as payment?” she teased.
“How about a different type of payment?”
She stilled. The relaxed air between them dissipated, but he didn’t care. He had one intention tonight, and that was to make her uncomfortable. In a good way. In a sexual way.
“You’re getting that intense look again,” she practically whispered.
“I’m not thinking about work.”
She took a step backward. Raised her chin. Rallied. “I’m not doing this with you,” she stated. “We had our shot, and it became a disaster.”
He took a step forward. “We were young and foolish. Now we’re different.”
“We’re involved in an important project. I refuse to screw up this opportunity.”
“We’re adults. We’ve worked together before. I swear I’d never let personal interfere with business.”
Her thighs hit the back of the sofa. She stood her ground, refusing to back off, and the way she fought only made his dick harder as his blood thickened in the heat of the chase. He practically shook to touch her, his mind wrecked from being in her presence all day, smelling her sweetness, the pull of her body heat driving him mad.
Her voice rumbled in a catlike growl that made him want to howl with lust. “I’m not your plaything any longer, Tristan Pierce. You don’t snap your fingers, and I don’t come running. Your best bet is to turn around and walk back out that door, and we’ll forget this slipup ever happened.”
He paused, letting his gaze linger, touching each part of her body as if he were using his fingers. The pulse in her neck beat rapidly, and her breath was erupting into ragged pants. A slight trembling shook her. But it was her eyes that confirmed his truth. Pupils dilated, the emerald green drowned to black, filled with emotion.
Anger. Frustration. Wariness.
Lust.
He would have left her alone if he’d only spotted the first three. But there was no way he’d walk out now when he guaranteed she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
“Don’t want to walk out,” he drawled. “Want to kiss you instead.”
Her eyes widened. A gasp erupted from her plump lips. “Don’t you dare! I’m not playing games, you big jerk. You can’t get what you want all the time just because you’ve got a sudden urge to walk down memory lane. Get out.”
“Have no interest in living in the past. I’m more interested in the present. The woman you are and have become. The woman who is making me lose sleep every night. Wanna know what I see in my dreams?”
“No.”
“I’ll tell you anyway. I dream you walk into my room and slide into my bed. Of course, you’re naked, ’cause it’s my dream, and all that bare, silky skin slides over mine and drives me insane. Your hair spills into my fingers, and when I kiss you, you make this delicious whimper that makes me want to give you every pleasure imaginable.”
“I’ve heard enough. You need to—”
“I kiss you deep and hard, making sure you know how much I want you. Your mouth is so wet and hot, just like I know your pussy will be. I can’t wait any longer, so I trail my fingers between your thighs, and when I brush your swollen clit, I know how bad you need me to take away the ache.”
He stopped a few inches away. Transfixed, her breath coming in choppy gasps, fists clenched, she seemed to struggle for sanity, but his words had already cast their spell. She’d always been turned on by his verbal foreplay, and a fierce flow of satisfaction rushed through him, knowing his voice could still drive her to the limit.
“But I don’t. I let you wait. The tips of your breasts are tight and achy, so I bend my head and take them into my mouth and suck hard. At the same time, my finger plays in your sweetness, sliding inside your drenched, tight heat, feeling you clench around my finger and pull me back in. Your body goes wild for me, until I pin you to the mattress to keep you still, wrench your legs apart, and slide inside in one quick thrust.”
She stayed perfectly still, caught up in the fantasy he wove around them. Lips parted, eyes glassy, she swayed slightly on her feet. He reached out slowly and tangled his fingers within her fiery curls, pulling her head back. Her neck arched in a perfect, vulnerable column. He lowered his head and breathed her in, drunk on the scent of musk and citrus. He pressed her slightly back so she was bent over the back of the couch. Her nipples stabbed through the silk of her blouse.
“Then I fuck you, Sydney. I bury my aching dick inside of you, thrusting like a wild man, needing to soak up and feast on every inch of your sweet body. Your pussy squeezes me, and you scream my name, and I feel you come all over me. I feel the sting of your nails digging into my shoulders and the way you shake underneath me, and I know the only thing I want in this world is to be able to do it again and again and again.”
His lips halted an inch from hers. His fists clenched in her hair. Still, he waited, needing her to be a full partner, needing her to be as crazed as he for one tiny taste, needing her to say it.
She shuddered. Licked her lips. And whispered, “Do it.”
His mouth crashed over hers.
Her lips opened under his, and their tongues tangled together while he drank her honeyed nectar with a hungry impatience as if making up for the time apart. Kissing her again was a primitive, animalistic leap into the unknown with no markers set up on the path. It was darkness and light, past and present, vicious hunger and aching tenderness. He couldn’t get enough.
Her hands were all over him, ripping his suit jacket off his shoulders and sliding her palms up his back, dragging him closer. The bite of her nails urged him on as he removed his fingers from her hair and dragged her skirt up to her hips, sliding back down to cup her full ass and lift her hard up against his chest.
A moan spilled from her lips. He swallowed it, nipping at the swollen flesh. She nipped back and reached for his tie, yanking him down closer, her thighs wrapped around his hips, the scent of her feminine arousal drifting to his nostrils.
She engulfed him whole with her scorching heat and raw need, until he was desperate to bury himself between her thighs and mark her forever. He slid his hand up the back of her knee, squeezing gently, then bumped against the barrier that was her panties.
“Oh, God, you’re soaked. I’m going to die.” He bit between her shoulder and neck, and she convulsed, arching into his hand. He licked her hard nipple through her blouse, then tugged with his teeth.
“Not until you touch me.” His tie was loosened, and she was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He shifted her higher on top of the edge of the couch, and suddenly she yanked hard, popping the buttons off. They flew in every direction and skittered across the floor.
“Good girl.”
He kissed her hard, ravaging her tender mouth as he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties and slipped inside. Her wet, swollen folds gripped him and held tight. He added another digit and teased her, his thumb brushing her bud in light butterfly strokes.
She bit his lip in punishment while her hands explored his chest, tugging on the whorls of hair, flicking his nipples, dragging her nails downward toward his belt buckle. All the while, her body shook as if caught in a fever, reaching toward climax, but he kept her on edge, refusing to let her fall over too soon.
In retaliation, her hands gripped his erection through his pants and squeezed. He jumped in her grip, cursing as she traced his length, her thumb pressing against the straining fabric.
“That’s it, you little witch. I’m done.”
Her dazed eyes didn’t register his next move. Pulling his fingers out of her dripping entrance, he lifted her high in the air and dumped her over the edge of the couch.
Her frustrated wail barely reached his ears before he followed her over. In seconds, he’d opened up her blouse and ripped down her panties so she was splayed before him in all her glory. Mad with lust, he gazed down at her. Skirt hiked up high around her hips, her pink flesh swollen and wet, heavy breasts straining against the white lace of her bra, hair tumbled around her shocked face. He savored every inch of her like a warrior claiming his spoils.
And she liked it. She had a hidden exhibitionist streak behind her sometimes-shy exterior, and it turned him on. He used to take her while he was still fully clothed, getting into the fantasy, but tonight he could only focus on burying himself deep inside her until he could rid himself of the brutal, throbbing ache of emptiness.
With slow, deliberate motions, he removed his belt. Unzipped his pants. Grabbed her fingers and placed them over his straining erection. Then pinned her with his gaze.
“You’re the only woman that can wreck me, Syd. I need you tonight. Don’t make me stop.”
He waited for the hesitation and swore he’d back off if she changed her mind. He needed her to want him just as badly, so badly she didn’t care about logic or the past or anything but how they craved each other until nothing else mattered.
She sat halfway up, her face inches from his. Gaze narrowed. Skin flushed, damp with perspiration, choppy breath rushing over his lips. His heart stopped, afraid she would send him away.
“Fuck me, Tristan.”
She ripped down his underwear and covered his mouth with hers.
Tristan pressed her deep into the cushions. With their mouths fused, he jerked against her soft, hot hands as she tortured him, his skin stretched so tight it skated the fine line between pain and pleasure. Drunk on her taste, he kissed her with a brutal force, unable to get enough, and finally ripped his mouth away from hers to drop down the length of her body.
“No,” she gasped, trying to wiggle away from his grip and force him against her.
“Yes.”
“But I want—oh, God!”
Her slick flesh was heaven under his tongue. Growling deep in his throat with pleasure, he licked and sucked her, nibbling on her swollen clit, bringing her to the hard edge, then backing off. She begged and pleaded, twisted underneath him for more, for less, caught up in the brewing storm neither of them was going to escape.
Finally he rose up between her legs and fit himself with a condom. Grasping her knees, he pressed inch by inch inside her, needing to do this slow so he’d never forget a second. Her tight flesh squeezed him mercilessly, fighting his entrance, but he wouldn’t be denied. When he was seated deep inside, he cupped her cheeks.
“Look at me.”
The slight flare of panic in her green eyes faded under the sting of physical need, a gaping hole that demanded to be filled. She arched up, bringing him deeper, and clutched his shoulders. “I’m scared.”
His heart shredded at her broken honesty. He kissed her slow and long, until her muscles relaxed and she melted against him, then rested his forehead against hers. “I am, too.”
Understanding passed between them.
He moved.
The ride was a contradiction of their foreplay; a slower slide toward each edge, his gaze locked on hers, not allowing her to hide from any of it. The lust changed to something else, something deeper, and he let himself go and followed the path, until the tension tightened to a fine line, and they gripped each other in a frenzy, needing the release. His hips thrust faster, forcing her to the limit as he pinned her tight against the cushions, his fingers gripping her legs, hitching her higher, going deeper, until—
She broke open and screamed his name. With a rush of heady satisfaction, he watched her face shatter with her release, never slowing his pace, then let himself follow.
Brutal waves of pleasure seized his body, flooding his veins with a rush of sensation so intense he lost all control. He let it overtake him and hung on, eyes squeezed shut as he finally collapsed. He rolled to the side to keep from crushing her, his palm on her stomach, his head next to hers. Legs still entwined, they caught their breath, letting the air dry the sweat from their skin.
Silence settled. He stroked her gently, letting her gather her thoughts. He’d always known what she was thinking before. She’d been transparent to him, an open, beautiful book only he was allowed to read. Now life had done its job, and she was hidden in shadows.
Still, he understood. He’d need to earn his way back. Showing her how good they were in bed had only been the first step. The more time he spent with her, the more it proved what he already suspected.
They still belonged to each other.
“Are you going to freak out?”
She groaned, shutting her eyes and shaking her head back and forth. He enjoyed the view of her ripe breasts swaying with her movements, strawberry nipples ripe for a taste. “Yes. What have we done?”
“We had great sex. I don’t regret it.”
“I’m still in shock. We just kissed, and now we’re naked on my couch like a pair of crazed, hormonal teens.”
“Awesome, isn’t it?” He kissed the line of her jaw, smoothing back her tangled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
She opened her eyes and turned toward him. “Stop. This is bad. You need to go home. I need to think.”
“That’s exactly what you don’t need.” He stood up and discarded the condom. Then he lifted her from the couch, carrying her into the bedroom. Like the other rooms, it held purple and silver pillows. The furniture was creamy white, and the walls were a dark plum, offset by silvery accents. Pretty and feminine, yet comfortable. He pulled back the quilt and settled her in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him with an adorable type of suspicion.
He shucked off his pants and climbed in beside her. “Making sure you don’t kick me out before I’m done with you.”
He watched her shudder in reaction to his words. Delighted by her response, he traced a finger down her arm and watched goose bumps pop up. Oh, yeah. She was still into him big-time. “We’re done. There’s no more. You have to go.”
He laughed, trailing his fingers over to stroke her breasts, watching her pretty nipples pinch. “I will. In the morning. We’ll talk about whatever you want then. You can analyze this, and yell at me, and deny this whole thing tomorrow. But I’m asking for tonight. I still ache for you, Syd.”
Her lips trembled. A sheen of tears misted her eyes, and her voice was fierce with anger. “Damn you. You’ve ruined everything.”
She reached for him, and he kissed her, swallowing the last of her denials, knowing he only had a few more hours to prove she was meant to be his.