Tracing my knuckles with her fingertips, she assesses me, her eyes bright and inviting. Then she licks her lips.
Discord hums between us, heavy and tense, with a crackling sizzle below the surface.
I want her. God dammit, I want her so badly it hurts, the ache blossoming behind my sternum. Jaw clenched, I rub at it. Fuck. If anything about our situation was different, she’d be mine in a heartbeat.
Her eyelashes flutter, hope floating between us as the moment draws out and grows heavy with all the words we can’t say.
What I wouldn’t give to drop all my pretenses and tell her that she’s not alone in her feelings.
“I’m your boss,” I remind her instead, reclaiming my hand and running it through my disheveled hair.
She sits up, mirroring my position and pulling her robe tighter over her chest.
“You’re also Luca’s dad.”
The pain in my chest is sharp this time.
“So it’s a very good thing nothing happened,” I insist.
As my words hover between us, she pulls the covers all the way up to her chin, though she keeps her focus set on me. And right before my eyes, she goes rigid, all the defenses she wears for the rest of the world snapping back into place.
With a resigned sigh, she whispers, “Thank you for staying with me last night.”
“Nothing happened.” They’re the only words I can force out. It’s more of a reminder for me than for her. Because if I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt this kind of attraction with anyone in years.
The way I would have made an absolute mess of this woman, ensured she was satisfied in every way possible, if our situation were different. I would give anything for the opportunity to take all that hurt and replace it with pleasure. I would have made sure she truly unraveled. Over and over. As many times as I could push her. Then I would have spent all night holding her, encouraging her to just rest, allowing her to be soft in my arms.
She’s magnificent: effervescent and independent. She puts on a convincing front, though, the moment I’ve shown the slightest bit of kindness or compassion, she breaks down. As if the treatment is foreign to her.
She deserves soft. She deserves easy.
What I wouldn’t give to be the man who could provide that for her on a regular basis.
An extra sense of responsibility underscores my desire to take care of her. I harbor guilt regarding how terribly my son treated her.
“Evangeline,” I hedge. This is a sensitive subject, but I’ve got to try at least one more time.
“You said the live you did last night was exhausting, but you told me a few weeks ago that lives were the only way you could earn extra income.”
Her cheeks flame red.
Dammit. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. But her current predicament is Luca’s fault, and that kills me. I can’t always be here totake care of her after a live stream. I hate knowing how much the experience drained her.
“I know it’s not my business, but if you have a chance to speak to my son?—”
She shakes her head, the movements jerky. “Please, Alaric. Just leave it alone. I’m handling it.”
“I could talk to him for you,” I offer, not mentioning that I’ve already tried.
She flops back onto the pillow, pulling the covers all the way over her head. “You should go,” she says through the fabric, the energy between us turning defensive and heavy.
Head hanging, I give up. Clearly, I fumbled this.
“You’re right.” I sigh. “I’ll go.”
I rise from the bed and slip on my shoes. Once I confirm I have my phone and wallet, I shuffle for the door. At the threshold, I turn back for one last look.
She’s sitting up now, but the covers are still pulled tight over her shoulders.
