Page 76 of Three Reckless Words

We both stare at each other for a second in disbelief, our chests heaving.

Her green eyes are wide and dark.

Her lips look like they’ve been stung by one of those bees out there.

Somehow, I’ve done more damage than any hornet ever could.

I kissed her.

I fucking kissed her.

I fucked her lips with my tongue, promising one new obscene disaster after the next.

More than anything, I fucked myself, sending my soul—or at least my conscience—straight to hell by treating her like a toy.

Archer Rory, you colossal jackass.

It doesn’t matter how bad I want to kiss her again. I’m about to lose my mind and what tiny thread of self-control I’ve gotten back.

“I should go,” I grind out.

Her mouth drops like she wants to say something, but I can’t wait to hear it. Because the instant she asks me to stay, I’m going to march over and strip that shirt off over her head, and then—

No.

No, I can’t take advantage, even if she’s absolutely willing.

So I wheel around and storm back through the front door, damn near panic running to my SUV and setting off fast enough to kick up gravel.

When I dare to look back—big mistake—I see her standing in the doorway, all haunted eyes.

Dust finally obscures her face. Thank God.

I don’t need more heat or confusion or blinding lust.

Not now.

My hard-on jerks uncomfortably against my jeans, cursing me to my grave. I have to adjust myself, wondering if my balls are bluer than Papa Smurf.

Holy fuck, I need a cold bath or three to get her out of my head.

Then I need to forbid myself from ever winding up alone with Winnie again.

In the twodays since I kissed her and signed my death warrant, I’ve held three Higher Ends meetings, signed more contractsand stupid damn documents than I can count, and dreaded seeing Rina at this lunch at Mom’s.

Any one of those things should be on my mind. Especially Rina and all the bad memories she brings, along with stale suspicion.

The divorce was messy.

The marriage was hardly any cleaner, and although I wouldn’t change a thing about Colt, I have enough regrets to fill a mountain.

Failing that, this new project in St. Louis should be taking up some grey matter. Dexter is determined to push on, and I know a lot of this is due to Junie and that brotherly rivalry we’ve got going on, but still.

It’s a big deal. We can’t jump the gun and wind up making errors.

Usually when these plans come up, I’m the guy who stops that from happening.

I’m not doing that today.

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