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“Anne?” Sephie’s voice rang from the direction of the house, her tone colored in worry. “Anne, where are you?”
Jim pulled away almost reluctantly.
“They’re worried about you,” he said.
“I don’t care,” I argued.
“Yeah you do,” he said. “And it’s okay. You belong in there, and I belong out there.” He motioned toward the drive, where his car was no doubt waiting to take him far away from this place. Far away from me and all the drama I brought to his life.
“Jim, don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“With such finality.”
He parted his lips, but now Cannon was yelling for me, and their voices were getting closer.
“I’m coming!” I yelled back, hoping to appease them long enough for me and Jim to sort this out.
“Again?” he joked, and it did little to lighten the rising panic in me.
He was going to leave and pretend like this never happened. I could sense it as easily as I could sense when he was holding back.
“Try to enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, heading away from me and toward the drive. “I’ll see you at work.”
And that was that.
He left me standing there, still flushed from what he’d just done to my body, gaping at his back as he walked away.
I shook my head, forcing myself to not let the confusion and worry and doubt steal the one thing his touch had given me—because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel ashamed or regretful after intimacy.
I feltseen.
And that was something to hold on to, even if I’d never experience it again.
CHAPTER8
Jim
It’d been a week since Thanksgiving, and I swear I could still taste Anne on my tongue.
I was losing my mind with need.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way her lips curved up as she came on my fingers. Every time I breathed, I caught a whiff of her floral and spice scent.
Every time she spoke to me at work, I heard her sighing my name against my mouth as she flew apart around me.
When she showed up to work the next day, she acted like nothing happened, so I acted like nothing happened, even though we both knew perfectly fucking well what happened.
We’d crossed a line. Hell, we’d obliterated that line. I’d stomped out of that dinner fully aware I’d never be good enough for her…but she’dchasedme.
She’d come after me.
Something she hadn’t done when her father tore us apart all those years ago. Back then, I’d waited for her. I selfishly hoped she’d choose me over her inheritance and her father’s demands, but she never came.
Last week she had. Not just for me, butbecauseof me, and both ways were driving me to the point of breaking.
I knew we couldn’t work.
