Chapter 10 #2
I’ve gone over the man with a fine-toothed comb at least fifty times, burning his birth date into my brain.
“Too old for you, and if this is any indication, too goddamned slow. Don’t care how many fancy degrees he’s stacked.”
Her eyes gleam under her lashes. “Hmm, I dunno. Nothing wrong with an older man.”
The way my gut twists tells me this whole conversation is a bad fucking idea.
“You’re still young. You’ll find some sensitive young artist your own age. Don’t settle yet.”
“You think I haven’t tried that?” She pouts.
“They’re all ego and nothing to back it up.
Lots of talk, no life experience. So many art boys think they’re deep because they skate through school on their parents’ dime and their dad owns a car dealership or something.
Even I had to work part-time and work my butt off for scholarships. They suck, Holden.”
Fuck me.
I knead my forehead as I sit beside her, keeping one seat between us.
“You make me nervous for Kit,” I tell her.
“Why? How awful if she turns out like me, you mean?” There’s a playfulness in her voice.
It wouldn’t be horrendous if Kit does turn out somewhat like her—minus the terrible teens—but I shouldn’t be thinking about Cleo and my daughter in the same sentence.
There’s nothing to compare.
Kit, she’s my little girl, and Cleo is—
Not even close.
More like an annoying kid sister or a little cousin I had to chase after once. If I’m lucky, that’s how it’ll stay.
There’s nothing remotely fatherly about the way I touched her this morning.
Nothing nice and innocent about the way she brings out instincts I didn’t need to know I had.
This would be far easier if she was physically revolting. I want—I need—to get my brain back to seeing her as strictly off-limits.
“I won’t have my daughter hooking up with anyone old enough to be their father,” I growl, like I need to drive it home.
Her eyes dance with curiosity as she looks at me, unsure what to say.
Yeah, I don’t know either.
I grab the chocolate bar and snap off a square, stuffing it into my mouth.
“Didn’t know you were a fan of the dark stuff.” I’m pleasantly surprised.
“Yeah. You appreciate the sweetness more when there’s a little bitterness to balance it out. Besides, it’s loaded with good stuff, health wise. This teacher I had for yoga in Portland once never shut up about it. Miss Sage. I think she’s actually Ethan’s mother-in-law now. Small world!”
I close my eyes and shove a bigger chocolate chunk into my mouth.
Fuck everything about that image.
Nile, twisting and twerking her way through a yoga session.
“So we agree. No dating Jasper Fairfax. He’s already jerking you around.”
“We’ll see.” She smiles. “I thought we moved on from that? You’re still trying to tell me to avoid the older guys?”
“Yes,” I snap, exasperated. “Nothing but trouble. They’re loaded with baggage and all they’ll do is weigh down a young lady. Do better, Nile.”
Too harsh?
Her cheeks flare, turning coral pink.
I shake my head, willing myself back together.
It’s not just the absurd thought of her dating the art dealer that has me fuming.
I still don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and this silence isn’t helping his case.
There’s something shady about Fairfax I can’t quit pin down. Blood in the air. A faint smell I can sense, even if I can’t follow the trail.
She wants me to lay off it with no proof, and that’s fair. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to celebrate him for playing this waiting game, not even checking in as a courtesy.
Her gaze slides to the last of the chocolate.
“Huh. I’m a little surprised you eat chocolate at all. You used to be such a health freak.” Her eyes slide over me. “I mean, not that it hasn’t paid off.”
“I had pizza with you last night,” I point out, ignoring her comment on my looks.
“We’re in New York. You had to. That would be like having Christmas without presents. You left me to polish off all that wine.”
“I had a glass.”
“A glass.” She pouts at me again.
“You make a lot of assumptions about me, Nile.”
She’s not entirely wrong about my health focus. If I have to snack, I’ll pick some dried jerky, a protein bar, dark chocolate, and cashews.
Looking after your body reigns supreme in my line of work—and it still hasn’t saved me from the genetic time bomb waiting in my joints.
So much of life is random to a disgusting degree.
Effort only gets you so far, whether that’s trying to save your estranged girlfriend’s life at the eleventh hour or just maintaining basic fitness to do your job.
You never know when it’ll pay off.
You never know when you’ll go bust and it’s not your fault.
You never know how long you get until the clock runs out.
Still, I’ll choose to run it out until the bitter end, every time.
“Well, it’s a nice surprise to see you can enjoy yourself. Sometimes.” She leans over to grab the rest of the chocolate. Her thin top rides up her back.
I look away like I’m in the room with the sun.
Acres of smooth, bare, womanly skin.
She has a small mole on one side, and for some reason, I fixate on it.
Fuck, moles should not be sexy.
Yet it’s oddly arousing, this small imperfection on young, flawless flesh. A single splash of paint on her canvas.
“Still a lot about me you don’t know, and that’s for the best,” I say hoarsely, looking away and trying to pull an algebra problem from memory.
Math takes enough brainpower to distract my cock. I hope it does.
Because goddamn, it has ideas right now.
She slides another piece of chocolate between her lips and smiles. “Come on, what’s a little truth or dare? Maybe you’d feel better if you weren’t so closed off. Do you even have friends?”
“I—” I close my mouth. “I’m a single father. Not a life that leaves a lot of time for dicking around.”
Thankfully, I’m saved from an imminent disaster by her phone buzzing.
Her expression changes to surprise as she rips it off the sofa.
“It’s him!” she whispers, pressing it to her ear. “Hello?”
Thank God. Good timing when it helps wrench my mind off this ridiculous crush and centers everything again. That cursed egg is the only reason we’re both here.
With a trembling hand, she puts the call on speaker.
“…I apologize, it took me longer than anticipated to correspond with several experts overseas to verify everything. I couldn’t have gotten in touch unless I was one hundred percent sure, but I should have let you know sooner.
Forgive me for that. I spent the night with my wife in urgent care for a kidney infection and I’m deeply sorry. ”
Cleo looks like she’s about to cry with relief. Her voice remains steady. “I totally understand, it’s fine. Thanks for getting back to me. Do we have a verdict yet?”
“Yes. I’m pleased to say it’s all good news,” Fairfax continues.
“Every expert I spoke with agrees that the Hera Egg appears to be authentic, based on the findings I shared. I hardly need to tell you how valuable this might be. I’m still putting together a formal appraisal, but I wanted to let you know as soon as I did. ”
“Oh my God! Holy shit!” She pumps her fists in the air.
Fairfax chuckles. “Yes, I thought you’d be pleased. I imagine you’ve been waiting rather impatiently for my call. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I can finalize my report, if you don’t mind waiting a touch longer?”
“No, no, of course not.” Cleo meets my eyes. Her gaze shines like a winter sky, violet and blue layered in brilliant ribbons of hope. A look that shouldn’t punch me in the chest. “Please, take your time! I appreciate you letting me know.”
“Certainly, Miss Blackthorn, it’s the least you deserve. Take care.”
The call ends, and Cleo stares at me numbly.
Her little hands are shaking.
I try to force my brain to work, to find something comforting to say when she’s this overwhelmed.
Then her eyes ignite. They find mine.
She launches herself at me over the sofa.
For a brief second, her impact winds me.
I’m not ready to have her in my arms. She pushes me back into the cushions, her knees pressed against my hips.
“It’s realll! Holden, we’re sitting on a fortune.” She laughs loudly. Her breath feels warm against my face, her lips closing in until—
Fuck.
For a second, I freeze, melting into the primal, plush warmth of this little firecracker kissing me.
Me, the last man she should be kissing.
Instinct kicks in, this primal, caveman shit I can’t control.
I kiss her back with the force of a rampaging army.
I kiss her deeply, madly, spearing my tongue after hers, sinking my teeth into her lip, stealing her breath, her moan, her all.
Delirium hits.
Her lips are still curled against mine, quivering and impulsive and unsure. Her eyes are closed.
It’s like everything moves in slow motion.
A blizzard of sins. Epic fuckups happening at once, but she feels too good to stop.
This isn’t like the one-person kiss this morning, the way I sampled her then—more of a quick, secret peck. A flutter of lust.
This is her, pressed against me, fully aware of what’s happening, refusing to turn back.
Her fingers reach up and tangle in my shirt, pulling me closer.
Mayday.
Growling, I slide my hand through her hair, tilt her head, and give in to the madness.
Hunger takes control.
Some withered, rational part of me knows this is a disaster.
The rest just wants to get intoxicated on the girl I can’t have but will.
Her apple blossom scent.
Her softness.
Her whimper—fucking God, the sounds coming out of her mouth.
My free hand moves to the back of her top, fumbling, fighting to regain control.
Of course, it’s too late.
Self-control left the room the moment she threw herself at me.
The moment I woke up with her curled up against me, her breasts against my chest, her thigh teasing my cock to hell and back.
Now, destiny takes over.
Now, I give in and face the inevitable.
I kiss Cleo Blackthorn back like a man possessed.
A man who’s been starved for a woman for an entire decade without ever stopping to realize it.
Ludicrously good. My mind, broken.
Possibly permanently.
One kiss so outrageously delicious, I’ll never be sane or grounded again.