Page 24

Chapter 24

Juliette

After spending a little more time with Colin, I went downstairs when he asked if he could call his childhood best friend back in Kentucky. A little privacy would be good for him. I could only imagine how that conversation would go, and I still had quite a few to have myself.

Constantine wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, which didn’t surprise me. I had a feeling he’d taken that minute he needed alone elsewhere.

Remembering leaving my phone and coffee in the living room, I went to get both. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and returned the now-cold latte to the kitchen.

Noticing the cup had a chip, I hand-washed it so it didn’t get further damaged, giving myself time to work up the nerve to find Constantine, hoping he was ready to see me.

Every door was shut except the last one, which I assumed was his bedroom. I called out his name and peeked in. All black and white, no color anywhere. No surprise. And also, no Constantine. Damn nice bathroom, though.

I went back into the hallway, knocking on every door, repeating the same phrase, “Hey, it’s me, are you in there?” until I lucked out.

“Yeah,” he answered on my fourth attempt. “Coming.” He opened a moment later but remained a blockade to my path inside. He parked one hand on the frame, holding a drink in the other. “Is Colin all right?”

“Much better now, and he told me more about what happened at the rave.” I tried to look behind him to see what was in there. Based on the fancy desk and bookshelf I could see, it was an office.

“He tell you everything?” The notable hitch in his voice had me worried.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you don’t look upset.”

Ohh. “Well, maybe that’s because he promised he’s done with that life, and since you’re in his now, I’m going to try and believe him. Also, I trust you’ll do whatever it takes to protect him from his past. Protect all of us.”

He stepped back, surprise continuing to remain rooted in his expression. When was this man going to realize I wasn’t a runner?

He didn’t need to know that yet. I was in over my head with feelings I probably had no business having for him so fast. You know, feelings that sort of never went away, even with time.

I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought he’d decorated the guest room with an Aruba-y theme because of me. He’d think I was nuts if I worked up the nerve to ask.

He slowly lifted his glass to his mouth and took a generous sip. If there was ever a time for me to be a drinker, it’d be today.

With him no longer blocking the entrance to his office, I went in uninvited, searching for a bar cart I hoped to find. “Mind if I have a drink, too?”

“I do, in fact, mind,” he said as I located more than a cart, but a fully stocked bar. An open bottle of Legacy Ridge sat on the counter, half empty.

I was still curious why he drank that all these years, especially if it was possibly a painful reminder of me. I pushed those thoughts to the side for now and faced him, settling into my typical “mom” pose with my hands on my hips. I couldn’t fight the smile trying to slip loose. “Why can’t I?”

“Because I doubt you’ve had any food today.” He crossed the space to stand in front of me, probably not trusting me to be so close to his bar without him there to intervene in my quest for a drink. “You’ll get sick if you have anything on an empty stomach, and I can’t let that happen.”

My stomach growled in confirmation, betraying me. “And have you eaten?”

“Nope.”

Well, that’s not fair.

His gaze fell to my mouth before he took another indulgent sip of bourbon.

I reached for his glass, but he shook his head and held it up. “This is not a game you will win. Food first. A sip later.”

“Just a sip?”

“I think that’s the safest amount for a non-drinker like you, even with food, while sharing a roof with me.”

I couldn’t help but pay close attention to the underlying message there. Bold print. All caps. He was making himself very clear that he, at the very least, still desired me. There was no denying we had obvious chemistry and could make spectacular kids together. I didn’t question that.

Without lowering the glass, he leaned closer, dropping his mouth an inch from mine, making my pulse leap. A rush of heat slammed into me and went south, waking me up in places that’d been dormant until he’d walked back into my life, demanding his wallet but winding up with so much more.

“We want all the decisions you make to be yours,” he said as his eyes thinned. “Now, don’t we?”

And just like that, I morphed into that twenty-one-year-old who’d spoken similar words to those at the bar in Aruba.

“And what decisions might those be?” Against my wishes, I allowed hope for more to finagle its way into my heart and mind. Who was I kidding? It’d resecured its place in both while I’d shared photos of our son.

He straightened his posture, removing the temptation of his lips. “You’re a mystery to me.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” I rested a hand on my nervous stomach. “I think I need that sip now, food or not.”

I spun away from him before I did something too soon, too fast. Like throw myself into his arms—not for a hug, but for a kiss. I looked around for a second glass but didn’t see any.

“You won’t find another.” He reached out and set his free hand on the bar top, and I stared down at his firm, masculine forearm. “I never let anyone in my office. No one drinks with me here.” His voice was ridiculously husky and sexy, and the intensity of it further increased my already racing pulse. “So, only one glass is needed.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “Well, lucky for me, you have a kitchen down the hall, and I bet it’s full of glasses.” Unable to stop myself, I turned to face him and set both hands on his chest.

His gaze slanted to my touch as he casually brought the tumbler to his mouth for another drink.

“Will you lock me out if I leave and not let me back in?”

“Only one way to find out.” A devilish grin crossed his lips.

“Hmm.” I let my shoulders fall with dramatic emphasis. “I don’t think I’ll risk it, then.”

“Smart choice.” He finished his drink but didn’t set the glass aside.

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to find out how controlling you really are.” I was only partially teasing.

He pushed away from the counter to free up more space between us and rested his glass against his outer thigh.

“Anyway.” One word couldn’t possibly extinguish the heat and tension baking between us, but I gave it a shot before I gave in to my desires.

He closed his eyes and took another step back as if realizing we were about to skip beyond basics to the next chapter. I was ready for that to happen, to seek comfort from him in a way I knew I shouldn’t, not after the day we’d had. Not for a lot of reasons, actually.

“Are you okay?” I changed gears, asking him something I’d planned to do when he opened the door, but he’d distracted me with his questions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m a lot of things.”

“Maybe start with one and go from there?”

“Confused. Worried.” He opened his eyes, frowning. “Scared,” he added tersely.

He eliminated the space as fast as he’d created it, and it took all my restraint not to touch him. He did it when I couldn’t, lifting his hand and tangling my hair around his fingers.

“Happy,” he murmured a quiet moment later. “Am I allowed to feel that, too? Because I do.”

Bye-bye, basics, and hello to something else yet again. Like my heart pounding up into my ears.

“You’re definitely allowed to feel happy,” I said with a shaky voice.

“And desire? How about that?” The deep bass of his tone had my stomach fluttering and sent goose bumps skittering across my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed out. “You can feel that, too. I know I do.” Among other things.

He set aside his empty glass, and I backed up against the counter, my palms landing on each side of me as he stared at me like he was about to ravish me.

Is this really happening?

He gently tucked my hair behind my ears, staring deep into my eyes. The hint of my father’s sweet-smelling bourbon on his breath passed between us as he bent his head, bringing his face to the side of my neck. A light groan fell from his mouth, and he mumbled something in what I assumed was Italian.

He brought a hand to my chin, further angling my head to gain access to the sensitive part of my neck near my ear. The moment I felt his lips on my flesh, I bucked forward, rolling my hips.

His free hand shot to my waist in a possessive grip before he brought his body tight to mine, letting me feel his hard length, forcing me to stifle a moan.

He grazed my earlobe with his teeth, and I grabbed hold of his biceps and squeezed as he kissed my neck again.

I arched into him, growing dizzy and lightheaded, waiting for him to work his lips from my neck to my jaw, and hopefully to my mouth.

“Does this feel like obligation to you? Does this feel like I’d be with you because of honor and not because I want to be with you?” His Italian accent curled around his words even more than normal.

I responded to his touch, desperate to match his movements. Greedy for more, but first, I had something to tell him.

“Go,” he said gruffly. “Go before there’s no turning back.”

He released his hold of me, framing his hands on each side of me on the counter. His veins were prominently on display, and the wood beneath his palms wouldn’t win if he stayed like that much longer, trying to hold back to keep from giving in.

“No turning back from what?”

“You know exactly what,” he rasped, his breathing picking up. “Go,” he pleaded again.

I didn’t budge, and how could I?

“Ask me to stay.” I brought my hand to his chest. His heart was racing double the speed of my own. “All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll stay.”

He lifted his chin, eyes shifting to the coffered ceiling. His throat muscles tensed before he slowly walked his focus back to my face.

“I can’t ask that of you.” He shook his head. “Because now maybe it’s me worried you’re the one who’ll feel obligated to stay.”