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She cups my face with her hands. Her eyes start to water.
Just as I grasp her wrists with my hands, she says, “I’m just sorry this didn’t happen sooner. It’s my fault you—”
“Stop.” My one word command cuts her off.
A long, lingering silence falls between us. Sentiments I hate to see pass in those honey eyes of hers.
Sadness, regret, shame.
I want to kill every memory of hers and mine that put that look there.
Taking one of her hands from my cheek, I kiss the inside of her palm. A soft sigh escapes her lips.
“Not a damn thing that has or hasn’t happened in my life is your fault,” I say sternly. “I make my own decisions and am responsible for my actions.”
I kiss her palm again because the urge to do so becomes overwhelming. Her hands are so soft in mine. They are so delicate, I never want to let them go.
A demanding wave of emotion overcomes me. I’m barely able to hold it back. The way I want to take my best friend into my arms. This is what I’ve been holding back for too long.
Calm down.
I have to remind myself to hold back. Not to come on too strong. To be the nice guy she needs. Not the dominant man my base urges are telling me to give into.
When I kiss the inside of her palm again, a hiss of air escapes her lips. I can’t ignore the way my cock responds in my pants.
“Be my date to Kyle’s wedding.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows raise. “What?”
It might just be my overwhelming desire, but her voice sounds breathless.
“My cousin’s wedding.”
“Where you’re the best man?” she asks as if she doesn’t already know.
I nod. “I need a date, and you’re it.” I give her a smile I know she can’t turn down.
Her eyes drop to my lips. I almost groan when her tongue slips out and runs along her bottom lip.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
CHAPTER3
Diego
“I don’t like it,” I tell the group of architects before me. We’re in the conference room on the twentieth floor of Townsend Industries.
This is our second meeting with me as the lead architect on an upcoming project. It’s my first significant role at Townsend Industries, a somewhat controversial move for my uncle to have made, given I’m a new employee.
“Diego,” Dan, one of the other design architects on the team, says, looking around as if he’s ensuring he has the agreement of the rest of the group. “With all due respect—”
I lift an eyebrow. “When someone starts a sentence with all due respect, in my experience, they’re about to be disrespectful as hell.”
Dan’s mouth remains ajar, but no words come out.
“Is that what you’re about to do?” I ask.
He quickly shakes his head. “N-No. Of course not.” Another look around the room. Everyone else stares down at the table in front of them.
