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She leans on it, edging herself a few inches closer.
Chin turned up toward me, eyes clear. Challenging.
My senses are overwhelmed by all the ways I crave her, all the places my hands are desperate to touch her, but I focus on her mouth. The way her tongue slips out to lick her bottom lip.
She’s not telling me this is a bad idea. It’s the only remaining scrap of hope that could stop me from taking what I want. And it’s gone.
“Ruby…” It’s a warning and a declaration.
She nods.
I can’t stop staring at her lips, which still have a faint trace of the berry pink lipstick she wore all day. All I can think about is kissing the rest of it off of her. She knows. Understanding in her eyes. Complicity.
Mesmerized, I reach a hand out and trace the apple of her cheek, trailing my finger down her milky skin, memorizing every freckle.
“Daddy?” Fiona’s voice calls out. “I can’t sleep.”
Air crowds my lungs. Ruby jerks back, out of my grasp.
“Shit.” Inarticulate, and it’s not even a fraction of my disappointment.
Ruby backs away. At this point, she’s practically plastered against the arm of the couch.
I can’t ignore my daughter’s cry.
“Go,” she says.
Nodding without conviction, I close my eyes in one last-ditch attempt to hold onto the moment. Then I let it go.
“Yeah,” I agree.
Ruby stands up first, giving my legs the power to do the same.
In a millisecond, she has her purse and sweater in her hand, all traces of her presence in my house disappearing while I watch numbly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jax. Sleep well.” She moves toward the door.
Fiona calls for me again, and I head upstairs to her room. I hear the motor of Ruby’s car hum to life, and the last iota of hope bleeds away.
But one thing is certain. If I sleep at all, I’ll be dreaming of a kiss that never happened. A kiss I can’t get out of my fucking mind.
ChapterSixteen
Ruby
It takes me half the drive down to Berkeley for my pulse to slow enough so I can breathe normally. My hand comes to my cheek, where Jackson ran his finger down my skin, setting every inch of me on fire as he moved.
I feel hollow, as if I’ve lost the life force that normally fills me up. It makes no sense. Yesterday, I left work feeling exhausted, as usual, from working all day and chasing Fiona around the vineyard all afternoon. Now, I feel energized, buzzing with a sense of possibility.
If Fiona hadn’t woken up, I might still be on Jackson’s couch. The look in his eyes and his gentle touch would have turned into a kiss. No question there.
He told me he didn’t want to have another relationship again after what his ex did. He laid that information out very clearly. And I took it as the warning it was.
This out-of-control, pesky attraction has no place in my life. Do I really want a fling? Is he just looking to screw the nanny? Keep me as a convenient plaything because he’s not over the loss of his wife?
As I drive through darkness on my way home, I have a hard time convincing myself that’s true. From what I know of Jackson, he doesn’t do anything lightly. He doesn’t make mistakes.
Which is why it’s probably a good thing that Fiona called him upstairs before he touched me anywhere else because I might not have stopped him. Wouldn’t have wanted to stop him.
