Page 76 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
That’s no excuse.
I can’t afford to let my cock start calling the shots. This situation is too delicate for that, a minefield sure to blow me up the second I misstep.
Her buttery moan replays in my mind like a song. The way she moved in, drunk on pure instinct, like shewantedme to touch her, kiss her, crave her.
But she wasn’t even fuckingawake.
I’m sick.
What kind of man takes advantage of a woman while she’s out? When she’s relying on him to keep her safe?
I won’t be that asshole, no.
Even if her body wants me that way, it’s up to me to say no. I have to be the older, wiser, reasonable one.
I won’t shoot our lives to shit with a preventable mistake in the heat of the moment.
Eventually, as the full horror sets in, the lust fades. No more temptation.
I can’t feel half my body when I finally switch off the water and wipe frigid drops from my face.
All I have to do is walk up and act natural.
Pretend I didn’t try to fuck her through the bed just because she woke up next to me, soft and warm and feminine.
I should’ve risked wrecking my back on that sofa instead.
Obviously, I didn’t think this one-bed thing through.
By the time I emerge from the bathroom, I’m chilled to the bone, but at least I’m dressed and halfway in my right mind.We hope.
“Holden,” she mumbles from the bed.
I tense. “Yeah? You okay?”
“I feel kinda crappy. Too much wine.” She groans and I hear the blankets rustling. “Could you get me some water?”
“Sure. Stay put.” And preferably covered up so I don’t have to see her in her pajamas. From experience, they show more than they hide, and I can’t deal with that right now.
I fetch her a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge and return a second later.
“Here you go,” I say. Her fingers brush mine as I hand her the bottle.
She’s so sleepy as she takes it, her cinnamon hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes big and heavy. Violet-blue skies, glowing with wonder.
It almost knocks me breathless again.
The less time I spend with her, the better. Until I get my head on straight.
“Thanks,” she croaks. “You’re the best.”
Woman, I’m filth.
If she knew just half of what I was thinking ten damn minutes ago, how tempted I was to do a whole lot fucking more than kiss her, she wouldn’t want to be in the same room with me.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” I grind out. Then I turn back around and march out to the balcony.
Air. I need air.
