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I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, not when there was no going back. “I’m not the woman of your house. You haven’t told me to marry you. You haven’t…taken me to a villa in Tuscany to enjoy me.”
His face was devoid of emotion, just reading my expression, reading the anguish.
“You don’t feel that way about me…” And that hurt so much. It hurt more than I realized. It hurt a million times more when I actually admitted it to myself.
“Who says I don’t?” he whispered.
My eyes locked on his, seeing the first man I’d ever really loved.
“You made your rules very clear, sweetheart. Nothing can happen until your children are grown—and I respect that. So how could I ask you to move in? How could I whisk you away to my other residence so we can drink all day and fuck all night? How could I make you my wife when I have to share you with two other people?”
Reality hit me in the face like a bucket of cold water.
“To be clear, I’m fine with the way things are. We both have lives that require our full focus, so the limited time we have is all we can afford anyway. It’s enough for me. You are enough for me.”
I didn’t realize how much I wanted more until he reminded me that I couldn’t have it. It would always be this way, our clandestine meetings in the middle of the night, our dinners planned in advance, my kids never knowing about the man in my life and my man never meeting my kids. It was depressing.
His eyes shifted back and forth between mine. He couldn’t hear my thoughts, but he could see the emotions play across my face. “We okay?”
I cleared my throat before I gave a nod. “Yeah…”
“Good. Because I missed you.”
Like always, my knees went weak.
He moved into me, one hand sliding into my hair, the other moving underneath my shirt to touch the skin on the small of my back.
“I missed you too…”
His mouth sealed over mine, and he tugged me harder into him, lifting me slightly from the floor so my mouth was easier for him to access. The second we came together, a flush of heat hit me everywhere, my core and my limbs. My hands dove under his shirt and slid up his muscled back, my nails sinking into the skin like anchors from a ship.
He got me undressed as he kissed me, our mouths breaking apart so articles of clothing could disappear. His fingers yanked my hair out of its bun, and the strands came free around my shoulders.
When I pulled his shirt over his head, I felt the satisfied gasp escape my lips. He was so hard. Everywhere. A powerful chest strong like the keep of a castle. A stomach that could break the knuckles of a hard fist. He got me onto the bed, and like a mountain over a valley, he covered me with his darkness.
My ankles hooked together at the top of his ass as he pushed inside me, his big length like a drill to the center of the earth. He invaded me fully, stretching me, hurting me, conquering the land he’d already conquered many times.
God, it felt good.
In near silence, we moved together, my nails clawing into his back as I moaned against his mouth.
His pacing was slow and deep, and he made an extra effort to look at me, to kiss me, to take his time because there was no rush. We had the rest of the night. And the next night. And the rest of our nights.
13
CAULDRON
I drank my scotch at the bar, my eyes glancing at the door every few minutes.
He finally walked in, wearing a black bomber jacket and a tired look. He dropped onto the stool beside me and ordered his drink before he gave me his attention—because booze was more important.
We were the only ones inside, so I knew the stench of jasmine was coming off him. “You smell like a woman.”
He grabbed the glass from the bartender and took a drink. “I smell like Elise.”
“Midnight romp?”
He didn’t answer the question. “You look like shit.”
