I want to believe him. I want to believe that something in my life can be simple, just once.
We walk back toward the penthouse, and somewhere along the way, his hand finds mine. I don't pull away.
I should. I know I should. This can’t end well. It has to be the forced proximity thing.
Ugh. Freaking romance novels justhadto make that a thing.
I've spent my entire adult life keeping people at arm's length. Not because I was hurt… I never let anyone close enough to hurt me. I dated, sure. Brief relationships that ended before they could become anything real. Men who wanted the CEO, the name, and the access it brought. Men I could manage, control, and keep in neat little boxes that didn't threaten the life I'd built.
This isn't that.
Lochlan doesn't want my company or my connections. He's not trying to use me or manage me or put me in a box. He just... sees me. The real me. The one who loves to eat ice cream with him at two in the morning, who has developed a surprising affection for dogs, who can't whistle and falls asleep on his shoulder watching bad reality television.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
Because I don't have a playbook for this version of my life. I don't know how to let someone in without losing myself. I've always been the one in control, of my company, my family, and my emotions. Control is how I survive. It's the only thing that's ever kept me safe.
His thumb traces soft circles on the back of my hand, like he doesn't even realize he's doing it.
I feel too much. That's the problem. I feel things I don't have names for, things I don't know how to categorize or contain. And I don't know if that means I should run toward this or away from it.
But right now, this feels good.Ifeel good. So I do neither. I just hold his hand and walk beside him in the darkness, trying not to think about what happens next.
Because thinking is what I do. I’m a planner, a strategist. And Lochlan Molloy has my brain short-circuiting, caught between what I want, what I'm afraid of, and the terrifying possibility that they might be the same thing.
I don't know what this is.
I don't know what I want it to be.
And that's the scariest thing of all.
CHAPTER 17
LOCHLAN
Neither of ussays a word as we walk back to the penthouse. The kiss still burns between us… the way she grabbed my shirt, the way she pulled me back in after I tried to apologize, the way she gave up control and lost herself in me.
Like she'd been fighting this thing as hard as I have.
It’s good to finally know I wasn’t the only one losing my goddamn mind.
The elevator ride is torture. Her pulse jumps where my thumb grazes her wrist. She's close enough that I can smell her shampoo, some mix of flowers and citrus that's been driving me crazy for days. I glare at the numbers as they light up above us. Seconds stretch into hours before we hit the penthouse.
When the doors open and we walk inside, Reaper jumps up from his bed in the corner and darts over to us, jumping and barking. But I barely acknowledge him because all I can see is her.
Adriana bends down to pet him. His tail wags wildly, eyes popping open wide at his luck.
My eyes narrow slightly as she giggles and pulls away with a yelp after he slips her the tongue.
I grab her by the hand before she falls back into the wall.
“Oh my God, he’s so aggressive,” she says with a breathy laugh.
“He knows what he wants,” I say, pulling her to her feet.
When she straightens up, she's right there. Inches away. Close enough to touch.
“So,” she says, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. She bites down on her lower lip, her thumb absently toying with the ring on her finger.
