She’s washed off all her makeup but is just as beautiful in that effortless, infuriating way she’s always been.
Her freckles stand out more prominently against her skin now, and my lips ache with the memory of kissing them, worshiping each one—once upon a time.
Aisling hesitates at the foot of the bed. “Which side do you want?”
I shrug. “Pick one.”
She crawls in, staying near the edge, and I slide in next to her, keeping as much distance as possible.
But the mattress dips.
Sheets rustle.
Her warmth is right there.
Her scent—floral and human and maddening—wraps around me like a chokehold.
The room goes dark when I switch off the lamp, and the silence thickens again.
After a minute, she whispers, “Raf?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for agreeing to this alliance.”
I stare up at the ceiling, heart pounding.
“Why didyouagree to this?”
Silence.
Then, “Because I’d do anything to protect my family.”
At least she’s honest.
Even if she hates me.
Something I can’t say for myself.
Because I can feel the truth hammering behind the walls I’ve erected in my mind.
The truth about my feelings toward the woman lying beside me—and what they would mean about my feelings toward my late wife.
I exhale, long and shakily.
The guilt is a monster tonight, crawling under my ribs, whispering that I betrayed the only woman I ever promised forever to.
But attraction is another monster entirely.
Aisling shifts again.
Her thigh brushes mine, and electricity shoots through me so sharp that I flinch.
This is going to be a disaster.
A war I should never have signed up to fight.
And I can’t tell if I’ll survive it.