His apology and peace offering cleared the air between us. I didn’t know what it was like, entrusting your kid to someone else’s care, but I imagined it came with a whole lot of worry about whether they were good enough, responsible enough, honest enough.

“I hadn’t realized,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs. The cool leather squeaking as I slid into the seat.

“She had a lot of fun at the snowball fight. It was nice to see her playing with other kids.”

“She doesn’t do that very often. Thanks for getting her out. She loves to stay cooped up in the house and I don’t push her to do more,” he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. You’re doing the best you can,” I said, cringing. Of course, he was. He had more money than God. Esme had the best of everything and above all else, she had a daddy who she knew without question loved her. He didn’t need my seal of approval. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Now that I know Esme’s safe. That you’re safe. I’m sorry if I scared you before.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to my own kid.” Was this what my mom felt that day at the grocery store? That clawing panic that threatened to bring you to your knees?

“The fact that it’s happened twice in the past couple of months has put me on edge.” The ice rattled in his glass as he gazed out the window. “I must be the world’s worst father.” He drowned the pain in his voice with another sip.

“Don’t think that. Don’t ever think that. You have no idea how terrible some parents can be. None. Esme is healthy, happy, warm, safe and loved. That’s more than a lot of kids could ever hope for.” I said it emphatically, probably more than I needed to.

“I’ll get you another drink,” he said, again not asking. I was beginning to get used to his controlling nature. Sometimes he just seemed to know what I needed, even before I realized it.

When Rhys stood in front of me to take my glass, our fingers touched as he took it from my outstretched hand. Once again, I froze, staring into his eyes, as he towered over me. He put both our glasses down on the table behind him and ran his hand along my jaw.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, Mel.” His touch sent a tingling down my spine as he said my name again. The way it rolled off his tongue. I licked my lips and his thumb ran along my chin, just under my bottom lip. I don’t know if it was instinctual or if I just really wanted to do it, but I couldn’t help it. I dipped my tongue out and ran it over my lips. The fire was back in his eyes now, the fire that made my stomach somersault and my core throb.

He sucked in a breath and ran his thumb over my wet lip. A hint of his flavor danced on my lips and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Maybe it was the highly charged emotional day I had, or maybe it was the fact that I’d wanted him since the moment I saw him, but never thought it possible. I wanted comfort. I wanted his comfort, in whatever way I could get it. I stuck my tongue out and licked his thumb, drawing it into my mouth and sucking on it. A mix of scotch and Rhys hit my tongue. I longed to taste even more of him as he groaned. I loved that I could draw that out of him, make him putty in my hands. Wielding a power I didn’t even know I had.

Rhys pushed his thumb into my mouth deeper and I sucked on it harder, keeping my eyes on him, not wanting to break the trance we were both under.

“You’re playing with fire, Mel,” he warned. When he said my name like that I couldn’t help but turn liquid under his gaze. I let his thumb fall from my mouth.

“I know, but I can take the heat,” I said, resting my hands on his belt buckle. I was out of my mind, but I was past the point of caring. I needed this, and I think he needed this too. One second I was looking up at him, and the next, my back was pressed against the top of his desk, my legs wrapped around him and his heavy weight settled on top of me. I savored his body on top of mine.