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I chuckle at that, my eyes moving to her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra under it, but her nipples aren’t what’s caught my eye. It’s Redd. Something about the picture is unsettling, and I can’t figure out why.

She steps closer, crossing her arms in front of her. “You never told me how Brett found you.”

She’s staring daggers into my eyes, waiting for an answer I’m not prepared to give right now. She’s asked me before and I said nothing. This time won’t be any different.

“That’s not important right now.”

“It is,” she snaps. “I want this to be over. I’m tired. All this running and hiding. I want my girls to be safe, in their home, and I wanna stop looking over my shoulder every time I hear a car door slam.”

I stand and approach, pulling her into my arms. Her body melts against mine like she’s been waiting for it, for some relief. I hold her tight, hoping she feels that. I want her comfortable and safe. I want her to have peace.

Then she tilts her head up, and I realize that’s not what she came in here for.

I stare at her lips for a few seconds before I claim them with mine. And things start off slow before they ignite into a frenzy. Her hands are in my shirt. Mine grip her hips. Our tongues tangle, and everything—Dime, Brett, the label—all fades to a distant memory. The kiss deepens until I’m drowning in it. She moans into my mouth. I grab a fistful of her hair, angling her head back so I can kiss her neck and taste her soft skin.

Her hands feel so good on my back. She gasps when she feels my dick harden between us, bringing her hand around to grab it through my pants. That’s enough to bring me back to reality despite how much I wanna stay lost in her.

“We need to stop,” I say, but she doesn’t, and neither do I.

She presses her body tighter against mine and her hand applies more pressure to my dick. I almost fold, but I remind myself there’s a lot at stake here.

I try to pull away, but she moves closer.

“Take me to your room,” she breathes.

I close my eyes, fighting every instinct. My fists are clenched behind her back, trembling with restraint.

“I can’t,” I say softly. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

Before I can answer, we hear tiny voices down the hall.

She pulls back, her eyes rimmed with tears.

“Why are you crying?” I ask, alarmed, my heart still racing from the feel of her lips on mine.

She stares at me, then speaks so softly, I have to lean in to hear her. “I feel like…like I want this more than you do. Whateverthisis.”

Her voice wavers, but she keeps her chin up. “I know what it feels like when a man wants me, and I know what it feels like when he doesn’t. I’ll be damned if I ever put myself through that again.”

“Sable—“

“No. If you don’t want me, just say that. Don’t pretend like you’re trying to protect me.”

She waits, and I stare, because I can’t think straight right now. That was gonna be my answer, but it’s more than that, and I don’t know how to put it into words.

And she doesn’t give me any time to do it. She turns on her heel and walks out of the room.

And I don’t follow.

32

Sable

I’m in the kitchenrinsing grapes for the girls, trying to forget the last ten minutes, when I feel him behind me.

I don’t turn around.