Page 27 of One More Chance
I laughed and looked down at my hands, stared at the worn indent on my ring finger that hadn’t yet faded. My ring was in my wallet, tucked into the smallest pocket like a secret I didn't deserve to bear. I hadn’t worn it since the affair and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever earn the right to put it back on. Not until Sloane told me to. Not until she looked me in the eye and said I could.
I smirked in spite of myself. “Yeah. I suppose that's true.”
She stretched then, her arms lifting above her head, fingertips brushing the side of the doorframe. The movement was unthinking andnatural but it undid me. Her shirt lifted ever so slightly to reveal a sliver of her taut stomach, one of my favorite places to kiss her. Her body curved effortlessly into the stretch, and heat rose in me. Sharp and immediate.
I had the violent intention, the reckless, hungry urge, to close the space between us. To press her back against the doorframe, pin her there with my hands at her waist, and kiss her until the past fell away. I could see it. Feel it. Taste it in the space between us… but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Not when everything between us was still raw and fragile. Not when one rash movement could snap the delicate threads I was weaving.
Instead, to focus my attention elsewhere, I said, "I would do anything for you and the kids."
"Oh, Levi… I've heard that song before."
"What?"
Then she let out a small sound; a half sigh, half laugh that drove me wild. “Well,” she said, her voice laced with irony, but softer than before, “You have some common songs you sing. That one is practically a greatest hit by now.”
I swallowed hard, grounding myself to the floor beneath me. Her tone was playful with an edge to it; a glint of memory and of hurt dressed up as humor. She was teasing me, yes, but also reminding me: she’d heard it all before. The compliments. The apologies. The promises that had turned into dust.
I asked, “Are you compiling them into an album?”
“Oh, no. I stopped keeping track somewhere between'I’ll Do Better Next Time' and 'You’re the Only One I Want.'” Her voice was light, taunting.
That made me laugh. Fuck, this woman would be the death of me. It was the same magnetic current I remembered from all those years ago, before kids, exhaustion and silence started crowding the space between us. I had forgotten, somewhere in the haze of growing up, of losing ourselves in the routines and responsibilities, how much I enjoyed bantering with her. How her sarcasm had always been flirtation in disguise, how she wielded wit like a blade and laughed while she cut me barely enough to keep me craving more.
Right now she wasn’t twisting the knife of everything I had done. It was a quiet reminder that what fragility lay between us was still there, and my sinister little wife relished watching me squirm. I was the one stumbling through the minefield while she got to stand steady, clearly amused at the wreckage I made trying to put everything back together. There was a malicious beauty in it. How calm she was in that moment. How much power she had in her silence, in the small curve of her lips that told me she knew. She knew what she was doing. She knew exactly how much I stillburnedfor her.
Control.
Balance.
She knew I loved the chase. The way she’d narrow her eyes as if she could see right through me, daring me to pursue. I used to live for that look, the fiery heat of challenge in her eyes, before we'd melt into one another once I closed the distance. Not just claiming her but earning her. Her fire, her body, her trust.
I smiled and took her invitation. “Then maybe it’s time for a new track.”
She raised an eyebrow at that, gaze meeting mine across the space like a dare. “Hmm… we’ll see if it charts.”
I grinned. “Good to know we’re both still pretty lame.”
Her laughter, unexpected and unguarded, spilled into the kitchen, and my breath caught. I’d forgotten how much I missed that sound. Not just the laugh, but the ease behind it. The glimpse of the woman I used to fall asleep beside, the one who could meet my sarcasm beat for beat, roll her eyes, and still somehow soften the air in a room simply by being in it.
Then she stepped into the kitchen and brushed past me so close that I felt the heat of her skin right before being hammered with her unmistakable scent: lavender, warm honey, and sharp citrus. Her scent was one I had known for nearly my entire life; I was convinced I could sniff her out like a bloodhound. Yet, somehow, this time it caught me off guard. My body responded before my brain could catch up. Every nerve sparked to life. I watched her move, watched her hips sway in that familiar rhythm, and I felt the pleasurable ache of my cock hardening.
I cleared my throat and said, "I really didn’t understand you back then.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, amused, disappointed. “No. You really didn’t.”
She paused near the counter and placed her hands against it as if she needed it to anchor her. The air between us grew taught and electric with the unspoken. With desire. With need.
She looked back at me over her shoulder and said, “The kids are lucky to have you." Casually, almost like an afterthought. It wasn’t sarcastic… only her quiet truth and maybe even reluctant admiration.
I looked at her, really looked at her: tired eyes, hair loose, a crease between her brows that hadn’t been there years ago. I basked in her radiance. “No Sloane… they’re lucky to have you.”
I took a timid step closer, afraid to ruin the moment of connection I felt we were building. I opened my arms, the unspoken invitationbetween us. She didn’t move at first as she stared at me. But then, cautiously, she leaned into me, her body soft against mine. She fit into all of my hard lines as her warmth seeped into my soul. Her body molded to mine as if we were built to fit. All the hollow places within me had been waiting for her to fill them.
I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my cheek to her hair. Her scent and heat drove the air from my lungs and I trembled as I held her. To feel her against me for the first time in what felt like years?
Fuck, for me it hadbeen years.
Her breath was shaky and stuttering against my chest, and I felt her trying to hold herself together, trying to stay strong. Those earlier moments of heat dissipated… faded like steam.
