I remember the exact moment I fell in love with her, the precise time I knew that one day she’d be mine.

I realized she was it for me. Watching her give her valedictorian speech when she graduated had cemented the fact that no other woman would ever make my heart beat the static tempo that Moira did.

And for the next two years I’d traveled, immersed myself in my work, tried to put her in the back of my thoughts because of the repercussions that could arise from being with her. But the truth was, I didn’t care what could go wrong.

She was the daughter of a lifelong friend.

I was nearly double her age.

She was just starting her life, whereas I was already established.

She was so fucking innocent.

I’d said goodnight to Charles hours ago. I leaned back in the leather chair in my suite, the night late, the evening I spent catching up with Charles a memory I’d hold forever. It had been too long since I’d seen him, since I’d spent time with a man I considered family.

But Moira was something special, a woman of worth. She was so intelligent, beautiful, cunning. She was shy and innocent, and her vulnerability from the ugliness of the world made me want her more, made me want to protect her from that grittiness.

I’d never had a serious relationship, but I also hadn’t been with random women. My focus had been on building myself up, creating my company, making sure it prospered.

It had been years since I’d been with a woman physically. Six years to be exact. Of course no one knew that. No one needed to know that. Hollow, empty flings weren’t how I worked. I wanted a woman that could give as well as she took, who was a match for me in every way. And it was that graduation day two years ago that told me exactly whom I wanted.

In every sense that mattered, I wanted Moira to be my first … my first love. I might not be a virgin in the technical sense of the word, but after six years of celibacy, and these past two where my mind was only consumed by Moira, it was safe to say I was just as vulnerable as she was.

But it was Moira that took up my thoughts, that I kept glancing at during our visit. I’d wanted to say more to her, to learn how she was doing, what she was doing with her life. I wanted to learn every single minute detail about her, and memorize every part that made her up until it was ingrained in me.

I finished off my scotch and set the crystal down on the table beside me. I glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning, hours after I’d said good night to both Charles and Moira. But I didn’t want to go to bed … not without the one woman I loved, that is.

What I wanted to do was a bad idea, a really fucking bad idea, but hell if I’d stop myself.

And then I was up and leaving my room, because seeing Moira in the middle of the fucking night sounded like a good idea in this moment … even if my common sense said otherwise.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep, not when Braxton was just down the hall, his scent still ingrained in my head, his face what I saw when I closed my eyes. The bottle of champagne I’d swiped from my father’s hotel room hadn’t even been able to make me drowsy enough to fall asleep. Now all I felt was this pleasurable buzz that only got worse when I thought of Braxton.

I stared at the ice machine, the ice cubes falling into the metal bucket, the sound loud in the all but silent hotel floor.

I didn’t even need ice. But getting out of my room and finding something to do instead of lying in my bed and thinking about all the things I should have said to Braxton today sounded pretty wise.

Once the bucket was filled with the ice I didn’t need, I grabbed it and headed back to my room. If I couldn’t go to sleep, I could always watch the ice melt.

As I made my way back to my room, my thoughts jumbled, my focus on the ice I held, all I wanted to do was go to Braxton and admit how I felt. I didn’t want to be weak, like this foolish girl crushing on a much older man. This was more than a passing feeling. This was me loving a man since I was a teenager, feeling that affection grow, and knowing that it consumed me as a woman.

I was so intoxicated by my thoughts that when I turned the corner to head back to my room, I didn’t realize I wasn’t the only one in the hallway. I slammed right into a hard body, the ice bucket falling from my grasp, chunks of frozen water clattering to the ground and spilling around my feet.

“I am so sorry,” I said softly, staring at the ice and then looking at the feet in front of me.

I retreated but stepped on a chunk of ice, losing my balance and nearly toppling to the ground. But the man in front of me reached out, gripping my upper arms and stabilizing me. That’s when I glanced up and looked into deep blue eyes that I would recognize anywhere.

“Braxton.” I said his name quietly, maybe so softly that he didn’t even hear me. He still had his hands on my arms, and it felt like fire licked its way through me.

He glanced down at where he held me, then let his hands drop to his sides. I felt this cold draft wash over me when he took a step back. It was like fate had intervened, like it knew I needed to do this, to speak with Braxton, and it took that choice out of my hands. He looked so conflicted, and I worried something was seriously wrong.

“Braxton, is everything okay?” On instinct I reached out and touched his muscular forearm, but I felt him tense. I stopped touching him. “What’s wrong? Is my father okay?”

“What?” He looked up at me, his brows knitted. “Yes, of course. Sleeping, I’m assuming. God, sorry for getting you worried like that. Things are fine.”

I felt the tension leave me, and exhaled slowly.

“But I need to talk to you, and it can’t wait anymore.”

Now I felt my brows knit in confusion. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not, but I’m about to change that.”