He looks just like him. The same dark eyes, the pinch to his brow, and the harsh lines in his face. Midnight-black hair that sweeps over to the side, slicked down with gel.

It can’t be him. He’s in Greece, right? God, I hope so.

A slow tightness in my chest builds into an intense pain, and I move a few steps back, bumping into Jessica.

I stop dancing. I can’t take my eyes off this man. He’s stealing the feeling of safety from me.

I need to get out of here—even though I know in my gut it’s not the same guy. My rational brain says there’s no reason to be afraid, but the walls are closing in on me and I need air. I need to breathe.

“I’ll be back,” I mutter to Jessica, but I don’t think she can hear me.

I take in my options to make a quick escape. There has to be a side or back entrance.

A glimmer of relief finds me when I see a neon red exit sign in the back not too far away. I rush toward the door as fast as I can in my heels, dodging well-built former soldiers. I’m probably safer inside than alone on the street, but there’s a strangling hold on me. A vise on my throat. I can’t think straight.

Once outside, I bend over and press my hands to my thighs. Oxygen fills my lungs, and I take in slow breaths, trying to calm myself.

Is this a panic attack?

“Hey, you okay?” A hand touches my back.

I snap upright and turn, raising my fists in defense.

Noah places his palms between us and takes a step back. “Just me.”

I look at the dark starless sky and nod. I must look like a psycho. “I’m, um, fine.” My body’s still shivering as if it’s thirty degrees outside even though it’s warm and humid.

His arms relax at his sides as he studies me. “What’s going on? When I looked at you in the bar…well, you looked scared, and then you ran out of the place, so I—”

“I’m okay. Really.” I have no idea what to tell him.

And I think he’s not exactly sure what to say either. His hand darts through his thick hair, and he musses it up while he probably tries to gather the right words.

“You should go back inside. It’s your birthday, and I’m pretty sure they’re about to make a big deal out of you and sing. Plus, I’m betting there’s some delicious cake.” My heart isn’t beating quite as fast all of a sudden, and the nausea is fading.

This is good. I’m starting to feel normal again, thank God.

“I’ll go in when you’re ready.”

His blue eyes find mine, and the sweetness of his words and the way he places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it a little, lets me know everything will be okay—and I almost break apart into tiny pieces. I’ve been holding myself together for so long, trying to be the woman I have to be, instead of the person I want to be. And full disclosure, I’m not even sure who I want to be.

Right now, I want to fall into this man’s arms and find comfort. I want the memories of last month gone. I want the fear to disappear. But he can’t help in the long run. Only I can patch myself together and be me again.

I glance down at the road between us.

But what if I don’t want to be her? Grace Parker-Fucking-King.

“Grace?” A dark brow arches as he angles his head, then his hand dips beneath my chin and he’s urging my face back up. His eyes seize mine. He takes no prisoners with that gaze. It’s powerful and demanding. So intense that I wonder if the ground could swallow my feet and I wouldn’t even notice.

I don’t want to look away.

“Yeah?” I murmur in response to the beautiful caress of my name on his tongue.

His hand shifts to my cheek, and he brushes the side of my face with the pad of his thumb. I want to shut my eyes and just be…

“What do you need from me? What can I do for you?”

His questions have me stiffening, my spine bowing forward a little. He’s so straightforward, with zero bullshit coating his words.

I’m not used to this. A directness that bleeds kindness. He’s a real man. A good man.

I wet my lips and swallow. “I need you to kiss me,” I whisper.

His brows pull together, and his focus cuts to my mouth for a moment before returning to my eyes.

And then both his hands are on my face as he steps closer, taking me by surprise.

His lips touch mine gently at first. Then he groans a little against my mouth. His hands fall from my face to my hips, and I gasp as he lifts me. I follow without thought and wrap my legs tightly around him as my back goes against the brick building behind me.

Without much effort, he holds me as his tongue parts my lips, and he takes my mouth. And I mean he takes it. He fucks my mouth with his tongue in a way that no man has ever done. It’s so deep, slow, and sensual.

My fingertips bite into his back while my other hand travels to his head, threading into his thick hair like I’ve fantasized about doing since we met. His hard chest is against mine, and I can feel the material of my dress shifting, my strapless bra slipping.

He may be sweet and kind, but the man knows how to make a woman feel good. And right now, all I can think about is him filling me deep.

And then, just like that, he breaks our kiss and pulls back a little. I open my eyes, finding a tortured look in his—pain. Or sadness. I’m not sure what happened, but he releases a breath and slowly guides my legs back to the earth. His eyes flicker to my chest, and he clears his throat and reaches for me, covering a partially exposed breast.

My cheeks grow warm and embarrassment floods me as I take over fixing my dress.

He lowers his forehead against his palm then swipes his hand down his face. “Grace, there’s something I should tell you.”

My heart stops. My body, slightly damp from dancing earlier, cools at the sound of regret lacing his words.

I don’t want this man to betray the image I’ve developed of him in my head. I need him to be different from the pricks like Patrick.

Noah’s arm falls to his side as his eyes steady on mine. “I’m married.”

I stumble back, almost falling, but the building behind me keeps me upright.

God, no. No. No. No!

Not this man.

I read him so wrong. I don’t understand—

“Wait, it’s not what you think.” His hand stretches between us, his eyes narrowing. “My wife and I are getting a divorce. We’ve been separated for almost a year. But I like you, Grace. I respect you, and I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m—”

My body shivers and goose bumps quickly scatter across my skin. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I do.” He nods and grips the nape of his neck. “I have a daughter. And I guess I’m sort of in a custody battle now. I don’t want to mislead you. I just can’t be with anyone. I need to focus on getting my daughter. Hell…” His large hand drops, slapping against his outer thigh, and he kicks at the road between us. “I don’t know if you even want something, but I’m not the kind of guy to lead someone on or play games.”

My words are gone. They’ve been stolen.

I don’t even know how to react to a man who tells the truth. That’s crazy, right? Lies and manipulation are things I know how to handle. Men who like to brag about their castles and their portfolios.

I don’t know what to say to a man who’s not only not a cowardly cheater, but someone who wants to put his daughter before his own desires. So no, I don’t have any words because I’ve never been in this situation. This gorgeous, strong, and sexy former SEAL is making me lose my mind right now.

“Um, well.” That’s the brilliance I come up with.

I take a step toward him, and he cocks his head and studies me with hooded eyes. So damn sexy I can barely stand it.

But I think what makes him even more attractive is his honesty.

“I hope I didn’t screw up the job. We really need this gig.” He shrugs and thrusts his hands into his slacks pockets.

After a moment passes, I say, “Of course not. Thank you for not making me a rebound.” Although I don’t know if I’d mind that much. To be his in any capacity sounds pretty spectacular.

A slow smile pulls at his lips as he shakes his head a little. “I highly doubt you’d ever be any man’s rebound.”

I blush. “This is my fault. I asked you to kiss me. I had too much to drink in there. This isn’t like me.” Partial truth, although he deserves more. But how can I tell him that although I’ve never done this kind of thing, it’s definitely not because I drank too much?

“Of course.” He gives me a curt nod, a soldier’s nod, then holds his arm out toward the door. “You ready to go in?”

“Um.” I can’t go back in there. If I see that man again, I’ll have another panic attack, and I’m now fairly certain that’s what it was.

Noah’s studying me. He’s trying to get a read on me, I can feel it. And I’m so damn scared he’ll be able to figure me out.

“Yeah, let’s go sing ‘Happy Birthday.’” I force my lips into a smile and start past him toward the door, but his fingers wrapping around my forearm stop me as my other arm grasps the handle.

I glance over my shoulder as he releases his grip. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” I say without a second thought, but I continue to hold the handle as though it’s a lifeline. I need something to keep me from falling. Too many foreign feelings are swelling beneath the surface.

“Would you mind not telling Jessica or Bella about my custody issues? I haven’t told anyone.” His voice is practically raw, stripped down. I can’t begin to imagine how he must feel.

My heart breaks for him.

He’s a man who’d make a daughter proud.

“I’d never talk about anything you and I discuss in private.”

He takes a shallow breath, and I see a flash of relief etched in the lines of his face. “Thank you.”

I’m not good with these kinds of conversations, so I smile again before heading back into the fray.

“There you are!” Bella comes rushing up to us, her eyes darting between Noah and me. “We’ve been looking for the birthday boy.”

Noah looks over his shoulder at me as if he’s asking permission to leave my side, or maybe he wants to check to see if I’m truly okay. So, I give him another fake but reassuring smile—flash a little teeth to make it look real—and he allows Bella to yank him toward the bar, where a cake glows with so many lit candles, I wonder if it’ll set off the smoke alarms.

As he walks away, I can’t help but wonder what happened to his marriage and how any woman could ever lose a man like him.

* * *

I had Jessica take me home an hour after the cake. The creepy-looking guy was gone when I came back inside after Noah and I kissed. He must have realized the bar had been rented out for the party. Thank God.

But I was still acting like an awkward teen, and Noah and I didn’t exchange but a few words for the rest of the evening. What could I possibly say? Tell him what happened in Athens? That I’m a coward who can barely sleep at night?

Ugh…

As I lock my front door, the sounds of the bolts sliding into place make me think back to Noah’s words about me being too trusting, giving a stranger a key to my place.

After what happened to me, how could I have been so careless? I know I never would have done it if Jessica didn’t one hundred percent vouch for Bella, but still…I need to be smarter.

I flick on the lights and start down the hall. I can still smell a faint hint of Noah.

The man is everywhere. When I look around, I can’t help but think about that gorgeous smile of his, and the kiss. Holy hell, the kiss.

And I was on his boat tonight. I haven’t been that close to water since I was eight.

My phone rings, which is strange. Who would be calling me this late?

I grab it out of my clutch and look at the unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Noah. I got your number from Bella.”

“Oh, hi. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure you got home okay. I know Jessica drove you, and that woman is a hellfire on wheels.”

I laugh. “That she is.”

I hold the phone to my ear as I move through the living room toward my bedroom. My palm goes to the frame of the door, and I have to take a breath as I turn on the light.

No one is in here, I tell myself.

“You could have sent a text.”

“I’ve never been much of a texter,” he says.

“No?”

“I prefer direct communication.”

Of course… “Are you back on the boat?” I look around my walk-in closet, checking for any intruders—not that I have a way to defend myself if some creep is lurking behind my dresses.

“Yeah.”

I picture Noah tucked inside the cabin of his boat, lounging casually on his bed, shirtless. I stop in front of the long mirror above my dual sinks and study my reflection. My hair is tangled and eyeliner a little smudged. I don’t look like my typical, put-together self. “Is there anything else?”

My fingertips brush across my collarbone as I look into my eyes, and staring back at me is a girl. Not the woman I am today, but the person I once wanted to be. I can almost see her watching me, wondering how I let myself become who I vowed never to be.

I did have dreams, didn’t I?

“No. Nothing else. Eh, have a good night.”

“Wait.” Shit. “I’m sorry.” My shoulders slump forward, and I turn away from the mirror. I can barely face myself. “I don’t know what to say to you. I’m not normally like this.”

“Like what?”

“At a loss for words.” I press the speakerphone button and set the phone down so I can unzip my dress.

“And why do you think that is?” His deep voice crawls through the phone and glides across my skin, giving me chills.

I look at myself in the mirror again, standing only in my strapless nude bra and matching panties. “Because you’re different.”

“Not rich?” There’s a hint of a joke in his voice, but also a tease of the serious.

“You’re real,” I say without a second thought.

“Mm. I would hope so.” I can tell he’s smiling based on the slight change in his voice. “I shouldn’t be on the phone with you. I probably should have texted.” His voice is gravelly now. Frustrated, maybe?

I grab my phone off the counter and go back into the bedroom so I can get into some pajamas. I choose a pair of silk pink shorts and a matching camisole as if Noah can actually see me and it matters what I’m wearing.

“And why shouldn’t we talk?” I’m walking a dangerous, fine line.

A soft hiss comes through the phone. “Because I enjoy hearing the sound of your voice.”

My nipples harden at his words as I take off my bra. “Oh.”

I sink onto my bed and press a palm against my thigh as I clutch the phone with the other hand. He’s still on speakerphone, and I hold the phone before me, staring at it as if I can see his blue eyes.

“Good night, Grace.”

Before I can say anything, he’s already gone.

He’s got his reasons for staying away from me. He’s smart enough to know he’s playing with fire, and I’m the flame. I don’t want to burn him, though. He’s a good man. And a genuine, honest man is hard to come by, so I hate letting him slip through my fingers, but I don’t have much of a choice.

What more could we ever be to each other than sex? A quick screw? A wham-bam and cliché “thanks, ma’am.”

I chuck my phone onto the bed before getting beneath the cream covers. I love the feel of silk against my body, but I tense at the thought of something I’d like to feel much more—Noah.

My eyes flutter shut as I draw up the images of him I’ve stored safely in my mind. I bite my lip as my hand slides down my panties, unable to stop myself from the need to get off—this desire for him is out of control, and I need to end it.