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“What are you doing here?”
In my head, that was supposed to sound cool and maybe a little sultry. Like a “So, what bringsyouaround here, sailor?” Instead, it comes out like an accusation. I cringe.
“I mean—it’s great that you’re here.”
God fucking dammit.
“What I meant was—”
“I had some paperwork to give Ares on the West Side development project.” He says it with an easy smile, like he’s happy to put me out of my misery. “Thought I might catch him after dinner. But it looks like he and Neve have already gone home.”
“Yeah, probably.”
He nods, shifting his gaze out to the city as he takes another sip. “Shit, I’d never leave this roof if I’d grown up here.”
I grin. “Meh, it loses its appeal after a while.”
“There’s no way that’s true.”
“It’s not. Just trying to make you feel better.”
He grins, shaking his head as he takes another slow sip.
My heart thuds faster, and the alcohol courses through my veins together with the feeling that the last few grains of sand are about to drop through the hourglass.
That I’m running out of runway.
That soon, I’ll turn into a pumpkin forever.
And there won’t be any more chances to take.
I think that’s what ultimately does it: the feeling that this is the end. That I’m on the very brink. That this moment isthemoment.
Do or do not, Luke. There is no try.
My skin throbs with energy as I stare at Castle in profile against the lights of New York. I watch the way his eyes drag across the city skyline. The way his perfect lips sip from his glass, and the way his jaw and throat ripple as he swallows.
“Can I get a sip of that?”
He was gorgeous enough in profile. When he turns to look me in the eye, it’s almost more than I can take. Like I’m a mere mortal who has no business looking directly into a god’s face.
His brows furrow. “You sort of…look like you’ve had enough for tonight.”
“And you sort of don’t look like my dad.”
His brow cocks. One corner of his lips smirks, just a little.
“Here.”
He passes me the glass. I resist the urge to bite my lip when my fingers brush his. I turn to look out over the city. Not to take in the view.
To gather my courage.
To tell myself I can do this. That I’m not still the kid sister of the men he happens to do business with. That I’m not still the little friend of the girls he once played bodyguard to.
That I’m a woman now, with adult needs and urges.
Urges that all revolve around him.
