Chapter Eight
Jamie
The second my mouth met his, I knew I’d crossed a line.
Eric’s hand stayed gentle under my chin, but the rest of him locked down, tension snapping tight beneath my palms.
Damn it. I knew better.
Everything he’d said about trust and feelings hadn’t been a prelude to kissing. And yet I’d rushed in anyway, boundaries slipping the second I wanted him badly enough.
His mouth didn’t move against mine. The kiss was closed and controlled—our lips touching, nothing more. And still, it was too much.
I was too much.
I pulled back fast, heat flooding my face as I dropped my gaze. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t know why I—”
“Jamie.” His low voice cut through my stammering.
I expected distance. A gentle letdown. For him to let me go and ease the moment apart.
Instead, his hand slid into my hair and tightened, halting my retreat. He held me there, the space between us thick and electric. “Look at me.”
My eyes snapped up without hesitation. My breath stuttered, heat blooming between my thighs. The desire in his gaze closed around me, pushing out sadness, confusion, every lingering doubt.
All I could see, all I could feel, was Eric.
I wanted him. Not just his body, but his steadiness. His attention. The way he stayed when things got messy. I wanted to disappear into him for a while and let the rest of the world wait.
His blue eyes searched mine—for what I didn’t know, but I was willing to give it, whatever he wanted.
“Fuck it,” he growled in a heavy rush.
Then his mouth claimed mine.
This time, there was nothing restrained about it. He took control, tongue sweeping, teeth biting, mouth firm and demanding, setting the pace before I could think to catch up.
Everything narrowed to sensation. His mouth. His hands. The uncompromising way he held me exactly where he wanted me.
His grip in my hair tightened, and a low moan tore from me, soft and helpless.
The kiss branded me. Burned away every other thought. Left only heat and his possession.
And then his mouth was gone.
He pulled back, breath heavy, his expression locked down again, impossible to read.
A taste, just a tiny little taste, was all he’d given me. But God, I wanted so much more.
My stomach tightened, my breath went shallow, and the lump in my throat returned.
I was in the living room of my dying father—the man I’d ignored for ten years—making out with someone I’d met two days ago. Worse, I was the one who’d started it.
What the hell was wrong with me?
A better person would have packed a bag, gone back to Toronto, and put distance between herself and Eric Alexander, before it was too late.
But I wasn’t that person.
Not when I melted under his attention. Not when it felt so good to disappear into a moment and forget everything else existed.
It felt way too good.
Which was exactly why it couldn’t happen again. The stakes were too high. I had my son to think about. The life I’d fought to piece together. Losing myself to a man, even one as incredible as Eric, felt like a price I wouldn’t survive paying.
Shame crept in, hot and suffocating. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I stared at his mouth, waiting for the inevitable words of regret.
“Jamie.” His low voice was steady, unfazed.
I forced myself to look up.
He was watching me, brow furrowed, like he was waiting for something from me.
Before I could say a word, he spoke again. “Someone’s at the door.”
And sure enough, when I turned my attention outward, I heard it. A hard, insistent knock at the front door.
Then again, only louder.
“Shit.”
I lurched out of Eric’s hold, heat still humming under my skin as I smoothed my clothes and ran for the door.
Flight over thought. Always my specialty.
Instead of doing the sensible thing and checking the sidelight first, I yanked the door open.
Such a bad call.
I was greeted by messy, dirty-blond hair, dark brown eyes, a growing arrogant smirk, and a uniform. Wait…
Was that a badge? Who in their right mind would give Dylan McCoy a police badge?
Oh, please don’t let him be armed.
There was no universe in which this man-child should ever be trusted with a gun.
“Wow.” His eyebrows lifted as his gaze dragged over me, slow and predatory. “You are the last person I expected to find here.”
The surprise in his voice didn’t dull his wicked grin or the sinful glint in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, his intensity might’ve scared me.
Unfortunately, I knew him far too well.
I knew what he wanted. And I knew exactly how little of it I was willing to give. Ever again.
“Gotta say,” he added, all swagger. “You’re a really nice surprise.”
It had been over a year since I’d last seen my ex. Longer than that since I’d wanted anything to do with him. But he hadn’t changed. Same easy charm. Same quick seduction.
If only he’d stop thinking with his dick for once and take me seriously.
Not because I wanted anything from him but because I didn’t get the luxury of cutting him out. Because he was the father of my child.
That fact didn’t make him any less of an asshat. Just a smooth-talking, frustratingly attractive one who now apparently wore a uniform that did him far too many favors.
“What are you doing here, Princess?”
Princess. Seriously?
This was the problem with Dylan. No matter how many times I’d told him we were done, that the romance and pet names were over, he refused to let it die.
Still, he was asking the same question I’d been asking myself for days.
Why had I bothered coming back here?
“My dad’s in the hospital.”
“Yeah.” His voice dipped, sympathy sliding in alongside the bravado. “I heard. I’m sorry, Princess. I know that can’t be easy.”
The way he managed to blend empathy and entitlement into a single sentence was almost impressive.
I shrugged, offering him nothing.
Somehow, he took it as permission. His gaze sharpened, hunger flashing across his face like it physically hurt him to hold back, and he took a step closer.
But that single step was as far as he got.
His forward momentum halted. Confusion flickered over his features, followed quickly by irritation, his eyes cutting past me.
“Who’s this?” he snapped, the question edged with authority he hadn’t earned.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Eric stood a few steps back, posture relaxed, expression flat. He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t look impressed either. His attention was fixed on Dylan with a calm that felt loaded, like he’d already assessed the situation and found it lacking.
“Oh.” I turned back with forced brightness. “Sorry. Dylan, this is my boyfriend. Eric.”
My tongue lingered on the word boyfriend.
Dylan’s attention jerked back toward me. “What?”
Oh. Shit.
The lie had come out of nowhere. No thought or plan, just pure instinct. Because right now, it was the best shield I had against Dylan McCoy’s version of interest.
Fear slid through me as I waited for a reaction. For the lie to break and my pathetic attempt at defense to crumble. For Eric to judge me, deny me, or simply realize I wasn’t who he thought. That kissing me really had been a giant mistake.
I didn’t hear him move. I felt him.
A solid presence at my side, Eric’s arm came around me like it had always belonged there. His big hand settled at my hip, pulling me in close and locking the lie into place without a word.
Boyfriend.
The claim was absolute.
My breath stuttered. For one reckless second, I wished it was real. I wanted to turn into him, plant my lips over his again, and let the world slip away. Damn the consequences.
But Eric was a good man. Better than good. And men like him didn’t sign up for lies, chaos, or women whose lives came with this much baggage.
The adrenaline hit all at once. My hands started to shake, chest tightening like it always did when things spiraled too fast.
“Hey.” Eric’s breath was warm against my ear. “Stay with me.”
His arm tightened briefly, a silent reassurance, before he turned his attention to Dylan. “So, is there a problem, Officer?”
“Huh?” Dylan blinked, clearly thrown. His attention slid back to me, searching my face like I was suddenly unfamiliar.
“Well,” Eric continued, unbothered, “you were knocking at that door pretty hard.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Dylan cleared his throat. “A neighbor called it in. Said someone was poking around Frank’s house. Given his condition, I figured I should check things out.”
“Looks like you’ve done that.” Eric’s voice held an edge of warning. “And then some.”
Dylan’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. I have.” His eyes dragged over me again. “Everything’s looking good. Really good.”
My stomach dropped, anxiety spiked, and all the reasons I’d worked so hard to keep this man out of my life rose to the surface.
“It’s just me,” I mumbled, the entire situation beginning to feel out of control.
There was too much feeling. Too much pressure. And my body was tipping toward overload.
“Yeah, Jamie.” Dylan’s voice softened. “I see you.”
There was no sneer in it. No mockery. It landed like a sigh pulled straight from his chest, full of things I didn’t want to hear. It was a sound that said he wasn’t done yet. Not really. No matter who stood at my side.
Eric went utterly still beside me, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Blackness swallowed my vision, and whatever strength I had left finally gave way.