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The woman was beautiful even in her brokenness—like shattered stained glass glittering in the sunlight in a mosaic of colors. That was why. This woman was so stunning, it made him weak in the knees.
Andre swallowed and took his time, exposing her soft tan flesh. The fabric dropped to the floor, leaving the black lace underwear she had on underneath and nothing else. The image would be forever burned in his mind. Mia crawled into her bed, covering herself with the floral comforter. Her hair splayed out on the pillow and he couldn’t stop the flash of disappointment he felt at leaving her like this.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well.”
“Gracias, mi héroe.”
Her hero? He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit that he wanted to be whatever she needed. When had that happened?
Since he’d let his heart make the decision.
Her soft breathing signaled she was asleep as she curled herself into a ball on her side. He walked downstairs and began to tidy the kitchen. He couldn’t do this. Mia hadn’t said much, but he recognized the broken look in her eyes. Last time, he’d made the mistake of trying to be a hero for his ex, and look how that had turned out. She’d used him and then left him an empty shell with nothing remaining. He couldn’t go through that again. Mia could be his friend and nothing more.
“I can’t be your hero, Mia.”
