Page 161 of Heartless Sinner

I unlocked his phone. Instead of opening the screenshots, I went straight to our messages.

I scrolled until I found the one I hated the most.

Brooks: Never contact me again.

Four words. I’d read them enough times to know exactly how they looked on the screen.

He’d sent it the night my father was arrested.

There wasn’t a text from the night his father had been shot. Brooks had called me instead, frantic and furious, his words coming out so fast I’d barely understood some of them.

I’d stayed on the phone and comforted him. I hated myself a little more every time I remembered that call.

I scrolled up once, then stopped.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I couldn’t do this.

One more sweet message and I’d lose it. I tossed his phone on the bed.

I slid off the mattress.

He didn’t move.

One step was all it took to reach him.

I rose onto my tiptoes. His breath caught when I swayed into him, but he didn’t move away.

That was all the permission I needed. I slipped my arms around his neck. My nose brushed his. Somehow, that move felt more intimate than everything we’d done on the Resolute Desk.

I hesitated before touching my lips to his. I was scared he wouldn’t kiss me back.

He did. His arm locked around my waist and hauled me against him while kissing me.

Relief hit me first. Then everything else.

Brooks kissed me harder, like all the anger and hurt between us had nowhere else to go. I kissed him back just as crazily. His tongue slipped between my lips, and champagne lingered on the taste of him.

“We’re about to make another mistake, aren’t we?” he murmured against my mouth.

“I think so,” I whispered between pants.

“Then let’s make it fucking worth it.”

He closed his hands around my waist, and suddenly, my feet left the floor. I wrapped my legs around him, expecting him to carry me back to the bed, but he didn’t.

He kept kissing me as he carried me a few steps, then pushed my back against the wall. His body crowded mine. His hips ground forward, dragging a rush of heat through me.

This was a mistake, I knew it. He knew it.

A mistake I’d make every single day if given the opportunity, though.

Even knowing what it’d eventually do to my heart.

One of his hands left my waist and went straight for the wig.

“I want this fucking thing off.” He tugged at it with an irritated scowl. “I need the Daphne I know. The Daphne I fucking dream about.” His stare burned into mine. “The one I want to keep in this position for the rest of my fucking life.”