Page 3 of Ruined by My Ex’s Dad (Silver Fox Obsession #2)

I lifted my hand to her face, letting my thumb brush along her cheekbone.

Her skin was impossibly soft—like warm cream touched by candlelight—and for a moment, I forgot every reason I was attempting to keep my distance.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"Someone sensible. Cautious." Her eyes never left mine.

"Yet here you are."

"Here I am." She leaned into my touch, almost imperceptibly.

"Making another mistake."

"Is that what this is?"

"Isn't it?"

Instead of answering, I lowered my head and kissed her.

A question more than a demand.

A door pushed gently open rather than forced.

For one suspended moment, she remained still.

Then her lips softened beneath mine, her body melting against me as her arms slid around my neck.

The kiss deepened, her mouth opening to mine with a small mewling sound that caused my dick to jump with desire.

When we broke apart, her breathing was as uneven as mine.

In the dim light, her pupils had expanded, leaving only a thin ring of green.

"My room," I said, my voice rougher than intended.

"Or yours?"

She blinked, reality seeming to reassert itself.

"This is crazy. I don't do this."

"Neither do I." I kept my hands at her waist, unwilling to release her.

"That's what makes it interesting."

"Interesting," she repeated.

"Is that what you call upending a stranger's world?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

She laughed, the sound slightly wild.

"You know exactly what you're doing."

I stepped back, giving her space.

Giving her a choice.

"I'm offering a night with no expectations. No histories. No names, if that's what you want."

"Just two strangers who met at a wedding."

"Exactly."

She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders.

Making a decision, I could see move across her face like a shadow.

"My room," she said finally.

"The Vineyard Suite. Third floor." She stepped back, putting distance between us.

"Give me fifteen minutes. Then come find me."

Before I could respond, she turned and walked away, the gold dress shimmering under the fairy lights.

I watched until she disappeared around the hedgerow, restraining the impulse to follow.

Fifteen minutes.

Long enough for second thoughts. Long enough for her to change her mind.

Long enough for me to remember why this was a terrible idea.

I checked my watch, calculating how long it would take to make the obligatory rounds at the reception, speak to John about the investors, and extract myself without raising questions.

Twenty minutes, minimum.

By then, she might have thought better of our arrangement.

Part of me hoped she would.

The larger part—the part I rarely acknowledged, the part that recognized the specific flavor of her loneliness because it matched my own—hoped she wouldn't.

I straightened my tie, brushed garden debris from my suit, and headed toward the reception pavilion.

A lifetime of discipline allowed me to make conversation, to shake hands, to discuss potential investments with appropriate interest. But beneath the practiced exterior, a countdown was running.

Thirteen minutes. Ten. Seven.

I excused myself from a conversation with John's wife, ignoring her knowing smile.

Made my way through the crowded pavilion toward the exit.

Nodded to Eleanor, who raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Three minutes.

The path to the hotel was lit with vintage lampposts, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes.

The night air had cooled, carrying the scent of roses and distant woodsmoke.

Music faded behind me, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of wind through the vineyards.

One minute.

I paused in the hotel lobby, momentarily questioning the wisdom of what I was about to do.

At my age, with my position, I didn't do impulsive.

Didn't risk complications.

Didn't follow mysterious women to hotel rooms based on nothing but chemistry and a dance in the dark.

Yet here I was, stepping into the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor.

Watching the doors close on the life I'd carefully constructed—the life of Lucas Turner, CEO, businessman, pillar of the community. The life where control was paramount and surprises were eliminated before they could take root.

Zero minutes.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped into the corridor, moving past identical doors until I reached the one marked "Vineyard Suite." I hesitated, my knuckles poised to knock.

Last chance to walk away.

Last chance to be the man I'd spent decades becoming, rather than the one I'd glimpsed in her eyes.

I knocked.

The door opened immediately, as if she'd been waiting on the other side.

She'd removed her jewelry and kicked off her heels, making her seem smaller, more vulnerable.

But her eyes were steady, her decision made.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said.

"I wasn't sure you'd still want me to."

She stepped back, allowing me to enter.

The suite was elegant but impersonal, with windows overlooking the moonlit vineyards.

An open champagne bottle stood on the coffee table.

She closed the door behind me. "I almost talked myself out of this."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because," she said, moving closer, "for once in my life, I want to do something reckless. Something that's just for me." Her hands came to rest on my chest.

"Something that feels like freedom instead of another cage."

I covered her hands with mine. "And I'm freedom to you?"

"Tonight you are." She rose on tiptoe, her lips a breath away from mine.

"A beautiful mistake that's all mine."

"I'm not in the habit of being anyone's mistake," I murmured.

She smiled, a flash of that challenge I'd seen at the bar.

"Then be the exception. For me."

I was a man who lived by rules. Who calculated risks. Who never acted without considering all potential outcomes.

But when her lips met mine—soft, full, tasting faintly of scotch and something sweeter—I stopped thinking entirely.

She pressed against me with a hunger that left no room for doubt, her curves molding to me like she’d been waiting to do exactly that.

Her body was all heat and surrender, silk and intent, and the way she kissed me—bold, unapologetic—made something primal snap loose in my chest.

There was no second-guessing, no pretending we didn’t want this.

I made a choice in that moment, sharp and certain: to be exactly what she needed.

The beautiful mistake that didn’t feel like a mistake at all.

It would be hours before I understood just how correct that assessment was.