Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DECLAN
I can’t sleep. Not really.
Claire.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. The way she looked at me in her office mere hours ago. So much heat in her gaze. Like she was ready to forget all the reasons this is a bad idea and beg me to take her against the desk.
God help me, I wanted to. Wanted to erase the distance, fist my hand in her hair, and kiss her until neither of us could breathe. Give myself one last taste.
But I doubt I’d be satisfied with just one last taste.
I’d want more.
And I can’t have more.
So I need to settle for nothing. It’s the only way.
When the first pale thread of dawn filters through the blinds, I give up on sleep.
I shove back the covers and plant my feet on the cool hardwood.
After heading into the bathroom and splashing some water on my face, I change into a pair of running shorts and a long-sleeved shirt.
Maybe pounding the pavement will quiet my mind and help me to stop fantasizing about my son’s ex.
As I step outside, the crisp morning air hits me, but it’s nothing like the frigid temperatures in D.C. this time of year. This is actually quite comfortable. And quiet. If I were back home, the sidewalks would already be teeming with people, even at this early hour.
But here, everything is peaceful. I can make out the soft rumble of a few cars in the distance, along with the occasional barking dog, but other than that, the town is still. Serene. Tranquil.
As I make my way off the porch, I glance to my right. At Claire’s townhouse.
There’s a wreath on the front door, her porch strung with lights and garland. More lights line the roof and eaves, and there’s a Christmas tree in the front bay windows. I smile at the image of Claire decorating her home. Listening to Christmas carols. Maybe even singing along to them.
But then I notice a curtain move in a window on the second floor. I quickly tear my gaze away and take off at a slow pace.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I use the opportunity to explore the small town where my son grew up.
What did he do here as a kid? Did he ride his bike down this same sidewalk? Did he eat ice cream on one of the benches along Main Street? Did he play in the park by City Hall? I want to know. I need to know. I missed twenty-four years. Twenty-four birthdays. Twenty-four Christmases.
I’m here to fix that.
But as I wonder what kind of kid Joshua was, thoughts of Claire seep in. Where did he take her on their first date? Did he kiss her goodnight? Did he more than kiss her?
I shouldn’t be thinking about any of these things.
Shouldn’t feel anything remotely close to jealousy when thinking about my son and his ex.
But I can’t ignore the flash of something raw and uninvited that burns through me at the idea of Joshua being able to hold Claire’s hand as they stroll down Main Street in the snow.
Or huddle up beneath a blanket as they watch an outdoor movie by the town green.
Or share a quiet dinner overlooking the idyllic lake.
Because I can never do these things with her.
It’s a surprising thought, since I’ve never cared to do those things with any woman. My career has been my focus, all my relationships short-lived and meaningless. It’s easier that way.
Safer.
But in one night, Claire managed to make me want things I never thought I would.
I pick up the pace, my breath turning ragged as my feet hit the pavement.
Harder. Faster. Anything to drown out my thoughts of Claire.
I’m here to be a father. That’s the only thing that counts.
Getting to know my son. Not getting tangled up with the one woman in this town I have no business wanting.
I repeat that like a mantra as I continue running down street after street before eventually winding my way back toward my temporary home.
But when I turn the corner onto the street, I slam directly into someone.
Claire.
Of course.
I catch her by the hips, steadying her before she can stumble. The heat of her skin burns through her clothes, and for a moment, I forget everything I just promised myself.
She’s dressed in a pair of dark running shorts that barely cover the tops of her thighs and a long-sleeved shirt that hugs every damn curve.
Her lips are parted, breath coming fast, and there’s that look again. The one that makes me think she’s picturing the same thing I am. My mouth on hers. My hands sliding under her shirt. My teeth nipping at her skin, marking her as mine.
I should step back.
I don’t.
Not until I realize my thumb is still pressed to her hip, stroking lightly as if it has a mind of its own.
I quickly let go, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“We really need to stop running into each other like this,” I say to break the tension.
She blinks, and a quick, nervous smile tugs at her mouth. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Audiobook.” She points to her earbuds.
I wonder what kind of book she’s listening to. Is it a thriller? Literary fiction? Maybe something historical?
I don’t know her well enough to be familiar with her taste in books, but a part of me likes the idea of her listening to a romance novel. When she gets to the steamier parts, would she put me in the hero’s place? Would she fantasize about me doing all those things to her?
“I was sort of somewhere else, too. Lost in thought, I guess.”
She doesn’t press for more information. Just keeps her gaze trained on me, the tension mounting with every damn heartbeat.
Finally, she clears her throat. “I should finish my run so I can get to work.”
“Right. Of course.” I step back, giving her space.
She jogs past me, her scent invading my senses as she goes, floral and soft. Reminding me yet again of our one night together.
I shouldn’t look back. Should keep walking forward.
But lately I’ve been making a habit out of doing things I shouldn’t.
So I turn and watch her run down the street.
Her ponytail swings with each step, her long legs moving in an easy, steady rhythm. And her ass… Hell, that view is lethal in those shorts. I grit my teeth, hating how badly I want to chase after her, grab her and pull her against me, consequences be damned.
As if able to sense my stare, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes locking on mine for what feels like an eternity.
Then she looks forward once more, continuing down the street and disappearing around the corner.
By the time she’s out of sight, my entire body is tight with frustration. I run the last block like I’m being chased, sprinting up the porch and into the townhouse. Kicking off my shoes, I head straight into the en-suite bathroom.
I turn on the shower and step under the scalding water, desperately trying to erase Claire from my mind.
But it’s impossible to erase her… Especially the sight of her in those tiny shorts. The heat in her eyes. The way she bit her bottom lip like she did during our one night.
This is the last thing I should be doing, but I need to do something to release some of this pent-up frustration.
With one hand braced against the wall, I wrap my other hand around my erection, moaning Claire’s name as I work myself to an orgasm, replaying the memory of her body writhing against mine.
I have a feeling I’ll be doing this a lot over the next few weeks.
Especially if I keep running into her like this.