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“Look, I wanted to apologize for last night—”
Bailey pushed off the counter and shook his head. “I told you, you don’t have to do that,” he said, and went to turn back to the coffee.
“What if I want to do that?”
Bailey moved to the center island. “There’s really no need. We hardly know each other. You don’t owe me an explanation over something so personal. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
That sounded great in theory, and Henri knew he should be thrilled not to talk about all of the fucked-up reasons he’d turned to the bottom of a bottle to celebrate his father’s demise. But as he looked into Bailey’s gorgeous face, he said, “I don’t like that answer.”
Bailey’s eyes widened, but when no words left him, Henri kept right on course. It was time to let his cop know that he wasn’t done with them yet, not by a long fucking shot.
“You’re right, we don’t know each other. If I’m honest, I don’t even know your first name.”
Bailey sputtered a little, but that didn’t slow Henri down. It didn’t stop him from walking around the island and heading toward Bailey, either.
“But you know what I do know?”
Bailey crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that?”
“That I can’t stop thinking about you, and not just that night. Although it was a pretty spectacular night.” Bailey’s lips twitched, but he remained silent. “You’re on my mind every minute of every fucking day, Bailey. I want to know where you are, what you’re doing, if you’d answer the phone if I called. That’s why I came over here last night. I couldn’t stay away, and if you knew me, you’d know that’s not normal—I can stay gone. Just not from you, apparently.”
Bailey looked down at the tile beneath their feet, but before he could say, Too bad, I’m not interested, Henri took another step closer and decided it was now or never.
“I’m sorry I landed on your doorstep drunk last night.” Bailey raised his head and looked Henri in the eye. “I didn’t have a good, well, anything with Victor, and it was freeing to know that he was finally gone. I felt like I could start over, and…I wanted to be around someone who didn’t know the old me.”
As Henri fell silent, Bailey uncrossed his arms and held his hand out. Henri looked down at it, and when he raised his eyes and saw Bailey grinning, Henri took his hand.
“Well then—hi, I’m Craig Bailey. But everyone I’m close to calls me Bailey.”
Henri tugged on Bailey’s hand, pulling him in the final step needed so they were toe to toe. “In that case, Craig, if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna keep calling you Bailey. Because I plan to be as close to you as fucking possible.”
Bailey took in an unsteady breath, and this close, Henri could see his eyes darken, his pupils dilating, as the desire that had always been between them roared back to life.
“I don’t want one more night,” Bailey said, but Henri already knew that. He’d known from the minute he walked into the kitchen that things between them had changed. Bailey was no longer interested in one and done, and Henri no longer had the will to walk away.
So where the hell did that leave them? Him and a cop? It didn’t take a genius to know that that was a bad idea. But when Bailey ran his tongue along his lower lip, Henri thought that bad had never looked so good.
“I—” Bailey started and then stopped, seeming to think over his next words carefully. “I don’t do one-night stands. I mean, not usually.”
Henri spread the fingers Bailey was still holding and had a flash of déjà vu. This felt familiar, the two of them holding hands. It felt good, it felt…right, and he wanted to keep on doing it. “So what you’re telling me is I got lucky?”
Bailey lowered his eyes, that shy smile again making an appearance. “I guess you did.”
“Mhmm.” Henri shifted so his back was to the island, and then he pulled Bailey between his legs, right where he wanted him. “I got really fucking lucky. So tell me, Bailey, if you don’t want one night, what do you want?”
BAILEY COULD FEEL the heat in his cheeks as Henri’s question lingered between them. What do you want?
And what did he want? Henri—if he was being honest. Even though he’d just finished convincing himself that it was a bad idea. But if Henri was offering more than just sex, was it such a bad idea?
Bailey placed his hands on Henri’s chest and couldn’t stop himself from taking an appreciative once-over. Damn, he looks good in the morning, all fresh and sexy from his shower. Henri’s damp hair was dark as night, and the thick lashes surrounding his devilish eyes made Bailey’s pulse race.
