My heart hammers in my chest. His hand hovers at my side, not touching, just close enough to set me on fire.
“You’re out of your damn mind,” I whisper.
“Maybe.” He breathes. Nearly panting. “But I’m also crazy for my wife. And I’m not letting you walk out of here looking like every man’s fantasy.”
His gaze drops to my lips and then my cleavage. “This,” he whispers seductively, “is all mine.”
I should slap him. Hell, I should twist his testicles until he begs for mercy. But I don’t. I just stand there—bare, breathless, and shaking. The space between us hums with everything I’ve tried to ignore and everything he’s been begging for.
We don’t move.
We don’t touch.
We justburn.
His eyes are lasered on mine, like he sees every piece of me I’ve tried to hide. Every inhibition. Every ache. Every lie I told myself about not needing him. Wanting him.
And still, he waits.
I’ve kept my distance. Built walls. Weaponized silence. But none of it holds now. Not when I’m standing in front of him stripped of everything but truth—and it’s screaming inside me.
He doesn’t beg anymore. Not with words.
His stillnessisthe plea.
Come back.
Come home.
Bemine.
We’re standing on the edge of a cliff, and there’s no turning around. Not after this.
We are too close.
Too far gone.
And I’m about to fall.
I think I’m ready to.
“Why do you fight me so, Americana?”
It’s a question he’s asked before—dozens of times, in different ways, with different tones. And I’ve always had an answer. Sharp, practiced, armored.
But this time, with him taking up all the air, all the logic, all the space in my chest, I’ve got nothing. No words. No retort. Just silence and a heartbeat that won’t slow down.
He’s finally done waiting for an answer. He’s done waiting for me to decide to fall. To stop fighting.
His hand slides to my neck, firm but gentle, steadying me. And then he kisses me—soft, unhurried. Tracing the shape of my mouth with his tongue like he’s grateful just to breathe the same air.
I moan into him and I try to pull back because, what the fuck? I’m crazy, right?
Declan pulls me closer.
My once sexy costume now falls to pieces as he begins gingerly removing what he’s just cut to shreds.
“Declan—”