“Goodnight, sweet girl,” I whisper, bending to kiss her forehead. Amanda steps next to me and does the same thing. “Light on or off?” I ask in a whisper.
“On,” she whispers back.
With a nod, I reach over and turn on the baby monitor. I’ll turn on the receiver in the living room when we get back downstairs. I have them all over my house for when Coral stays with me. Taking her hand in mine, I tangle our fingers together and guide her out of the room.
I love the feel of her soft hand in mine. I can hear each breath she drags into her lungs, and then I think about the kiss, how soft her lips felt, and I need to taste them again. I need to make sure I didn’t make it all up. Instead of heading downstairs, I turn to step in front of her, and she takes a step back. We repeat this dance a few times until her back hits the wall, just beside my bedroom door. We didn’t even make it to the stairs.
Letting go of her hand, I slide my arm around her waist and step closer. My other arm rises above me and presses against the wall, forcing me to leave a small amount of space between us, space I don’t want, but space I know that we need.
I tilt my head, and our eyes lock as she peers up at me. My breathing matches hers, labored and intense. I want to kiss her more than I need the oxygen I’m struggling to pull into my lungs. Instead, I press my forehead against hers, feeling her hot breath, wishing I could kiss her. I know she said she didn’t regret it, but she wanted to apologize, and I’ll never be the kind of man who takes what’s not his.
I want her to be mine.
In this moment, the only thing I see is a beautiful woman, whom I can’t stop thinking about. A woman my lips ache to cherish, and my hands tremble with the need to learn every curve of her body.
She’s just Mandy.
My Mandy. Not my daughter’s best friend. She’s not off-limits. She’s not forbidden. She’s just this incredible woman, who I’ve somehow let beneath the surface of who I am. Without looking, my Mandy has burrowed herself inside my chest. For weeks, she’s been on my mind, and then last week, she was all I could think about.
One kiss.
That’s all it took for me to fall under her spell.
She said she didn’t regret it. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need protecting from herself. She doesn’t need saving from me. But she did apologize. But that apology wasn’t about age or power or anything ugly. It was about loyalty. About history. About my daughter. About the life we both exist in outside this room.
And that matters.
“I’m not going to take something you’ll resent me for later,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend. Her fingers flex against my chest. Not pushing away. Not hesitating. Just there. Solid. Certain.
“I won’t,” she whispers.
Fuck. That quiet conviction almost undoes me.
All I can see is a woman who challenges me. Who looks at me like she sees beyond the polished, responsible version of myself and into the parts I don’t show anyone. The parts that want. The parts that burn. I’ve been telling myself this was a phase. A flicker of attraction sparked by proximity. It would pass.
Then she kissed me.
One kiss.
An invitation. One that I answered. When I pulled her closer and felt her melt into me like she’d been waiting for permission, something shifted. Something irreversible.
I haven’t been the same since.
I lift my hand before I can stop it and brush a strand of hair from her face. My knuckles graze her cheek. Her eyes flutter, just slightly.
She wants this.
Not because it’s forbidden.
Not because it’s reckless.
Because it’s me.
She wants me.
That realization hits harder than lust ever could. “You’re not a mistake,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. Her breath catches at my confession. Dropping my hand from the wall, I slide it behind the back of her neck. My movements are slow enough that she could step away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. If anything, she leans in, closing the distance we’ve been fighting so hard to maintain.
Our bodies are aligned, and hers fits against mine like it’s been there before. Like it knows the shape of me. I pause one last time, giving her the out I need to offer. “Tell me to stop,” I say, my lips hovering just shy of hers.