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A hot stir swirled behind her nipples, now taut and hard, pressing against her bra.
“You have the most adorable dimples I’ve seen.”
She swallowed. A part of her wanted to move, but she didn’t manage to. She stared into the depth of his eyes, needing his gaze on hers like a drowning woman needed a lifejacket.
He lifted his hand, and before she protested, he touched her dimple with his index finger. The caress belted little currents of electricity beneath her skin. Goose bumps raised on her arm and she quivered like someone had poked her with a feather.
There was nothing light about this touch though… it heaved on her, on her shoulders, on her heart. Because it’s wrong, a little voice inside her warned. She parted her lips, desperate to find words to jerk him away and shut the door of promises closed. Rings of grey flecked around his irises, his pupils dilated and big.
He lowered his index finger to her lips, and outlined them. Her weak mouth trembled, like the rest of her. She willed herself to move, to smack his face, and perhaps her own first. A treacherous moan escaped from deep within her lungs, cutting the menacing silence around them. God. Did she just produce that sexy sound, unexpectedly?
The sound of sin. She startled, jerking away and clapping her hand to her mouth. Her blood ran cold with disappointment, but her heart still raced wildly. “Sorry. Uh, I have to go. I’ll grab Libby and call an Uber.”
He stood, glancing around them like he was naked and had to pick his clothes, even though he was fully dressed. “Brit, I’m sorry—”
She held up her hand to keep him from talking. “Oh, no, please. It’s been a long day for both of us.” She smoothed her hand over her clothes, as if she’d been thoroughly fucked with her sweatpants pulled down. The image warmed her bloodstream again, and she shook her head, brushing it aside. “I need to go.”
“I’ll take you home. Libby can sleep over if you’d like.”
He stepped forward, but she passed by him without a glance. “No, I’ll call an Uber.” Many times her daughter slept over their house or vice versa, but tonight, she wanted to nudge Libby and take her home with her—to avoid picking her up in the morning and seeing him again, so soon.
“I insist.”
“So do I,” she said, dashing out of the forbidden movie room.
* * *
“I transferredthe data from your laptop into your work computer,” Brit said, fidgeting her fingers. “I’m getting with Adriana about the other stuff she needs help with.”
Damian nodded, taking an old specialized book from one drawer into the other. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said, and when she left his office, he lifted his head from between the volumes of books he needed organized and gaped at her fine ass. A thrill of desire ripped through him, and he sighed.
Two days.
Two days ago, she’d marched out of his house, taking with her a sleepy Libby and refusing to let him pay for the ride. Her attitude made it obvious she didn’t want to talk about that moment etched in his brain. He’d almost kissed her—almost. A simple word that had filled his brain with erotic images of her for the past forty-eight hours. Not to mention a painful boner.
A fling with Brit would further complicate his already chaotic life. He needed to consider her child and his own. Libby was old enough to get attached to the idea of her mother finding someone—and Amanda, to look at Aunt Brit as a replacement to her mother. Then what? After the excitement wore off, he’d deal with frustrated and heartbroken children who deserved better.
He rocked back in his chair. Ever since Violet left, he hadn’t had the urge to have sex with anyone. Hell, even with his picture-perfect wife, during the last few months of their marriage they hadn’t been intimate. She’d blamed exhaustion from raising two children and postpartum hormones still hovering, and he had been content with her excuses and didn’t try anything.
Reliability had been a promise he’d offered since day one of their relationship. Unlike his father, who had left his mother after she lost her looks, he’d promised to take care of Violet and their family. Bile rose up his throat. If only she had done the same…
He swallowed. She wasn’t the woman he’d thought she could be. She, like his father, hadn’t put family first. Whatever emotional crises she juggled, why didn’t she consider the small children she’d leave behind? Parenthood left no room for selfishness.
You hold yourself up to a crazy standard, Violet had shouted during one of their fights. No one can ever be on the same moral ground you occupy.
He shut the file door so harshly, the credenza vibrated. Maybe she’d been right, but right now he could judge her all he wanted. He’d earned that right the instant she walked out of the door in the middle of the night, leaving him a ridiculous note which explained nothing. If she had deep depression, why couldn’t she get treatment in their town of Tulip, California? Why run away to the East Coast?
The sound of a couple of voices followed by laughter coming from outside his office yanked him from his bitter thoughts. He blinked, standing, and glanced at his calendar on the wall. No surgery for another hour or so, and he’d done his morning rounds. No appointments until the afternoon. Who could it be?
Before he opened the door, it swung open and Bill O’Donnell entered, followed by Brit, who chuckled like the man had told her something funny. “Hi Damian, I was getting coffee and this gentleman asked about your office. I thought I’d bring him here by for you.”
Bill strolled inside, looking at the several awards and diplomas on the wall. “I hope it’s okay. I always enjoy dropping in for a visit on those I may work with. I called the receptionist earlier and she said you were in the building.”
“How nice to see you,” Damian said, walking up to him and exchanging a firm handshake. “Please have a seat.”
“I can grab coffee for you both. How do you like yours, Mr. O’Donnell?”
