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How beautiful she looked at the gala and the ease of her within those walls. How easy it was just to be with her. Conversation flowed, and our silences felt natural. In my arms on the dance floor, it felt like she belonged. And then I kissed her, not for the optics, but because not kissing her felt like the lie. And the night that followed . . . It was like old times but ten times better.

Pity we’ve been on a no-sex diet since.

I give a gruff chuckle. Fucking sex Lent. She’s been sleeping in the pullout bed in my office. The nearest I’ve gotten to having her is reliving the memories of last weekend.

In the shower mostly. Good thing she can’t hear me.

She’s in my head when I’m in this office. During meetings. On my way to fucking work. I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.

But Sunday, fuck. It started with kissing, mouths and necks, which led to kisses in all kinds of other places. After we’d sated ourselves, we went to a local brunch spot, then talked and walked off the food until our feet were sore.

In the afternoon, barely through the apartment door, Clara had turned to me, her eyes so blue as her fingers reached for my belt. Yanking at my boxers, she pushed me back against the wall, the power dynamics flipped even as she dropped to her knees in front of me. She took me in her hand, her gaze lowered and kind of reverent, and the sight of my ring on her finger made me feel fuckin’ wild.

“Look at me.” I tilted her face, wanting to see those old-soul eyes. Needing her eyes on me.

“Hush,” she whispered. “I’m busy visiting an old friend.”

My cock bounced with my chuckle. At least until she leaned forward. My breath caught as she pressed a kiss to my tiny lobster tattoo, her eyes flashing.

“I love that you have this and I wish . . .” Her words trailed off and her eyes closed.

I called that tattoo a mark of idiocy so many times over the years. I cursed the fucking thing. Bad enough I had her cutesy sentiment inked on my skin, but then to find out there was no truth in it, that lobsters don’t mate for life. The alpha has a fucking harem.

I even took that to heart for a little while. Became the kind of man I abhor. Unlike my father, I didn’t beat women. But I did use them. So yeah, I regretted the ink, but not right then. Maybe not anymore. And absolutely not as she wrapped her dainty hand around the base of my cock. Pale against ruddy. Cool against hot. Silk over steel, her lips pressed to the very tip.

I put my hand to my stomach as I recall the sensory brush of her hair, my abs tightening as though in anticipation. Her full lips opened, and my heart was fit to burst as she sank down.

Fuck, I need to drag my head out of the clouds and get some actual work done. Locking my shoulders, I tilt my head and stretch my neck. I have calls to make. Calls to return. A head to pull out of my ass when my phone buzzes in my hand.

My heart gives a little leap at the sight of Clara’s name. I open her text.

I just got a call from the lawyers. My trust has been okay’d. The distributions start next month!!!

My heart freezes—blood and bone stupefied.

Her whole reason for this marriage—her timeline—lands in my body a way I didn’t expect it to. Sure, I knew the money was coming. I just didn’t expect to feel like this.

Like she might not need me anymore.

Like I can already hear the clock ticking.

Something tightens deep inside. It feels like panic. Dread.

She’ll stay, I tell myself, but my mind races ahead. I know too well that agreements mean very little when someone suddenly has other options. Haven’t I been here already? Standing close to Clara, believing in her with my whole heart, only to learn there’s a difference between what she feels in the moment and what she’s willing to stand up for.

Fuck. My eyes fall closed. I know how this story goes.

And yet, the thought of her leaving, of her walking away before I’m ready, makes me feel ill.

This will end—I knew that from the start—but I’m done pretending I don’t want her. I already lost her once—and she’ll leave again—but I refuse to forgo the moments between now and the inevitable.

You hear that, Clara?

I’ll guard my heart but I’m done keeping my distance, done letting her set the pace.

The clock has started running, and I’m not wasting another second of it.

Chapter 34