Page 30 of Sizzling Desire

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide, like she wasn’t expecting that. “Why not?”

“Because” I say, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “You’re Gracie. You’re sharp and stubborn and maddening as hell, but you’re also... unforgettable. You get under people’s skin, whether you mean to or not, and anyone who can’t see how incredible you are? That’s on them, not you.”

She stares at me, her lips parted slightly, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure out if I’m messing with her. I’m not. For once, I’m not.

“Kane...” she starts, but her voice falters.

“What?” I ask, my voice dropping lower. “What is it? Tell me.”

She shakes her head, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” I counter, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Her breath hitches, her eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the world around us falls away. It’s just us, standing there on the dock, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

I could kiss her. Right now, I could close the gap and find out if her lips taste as good as I remember. But I don’t. Because the look in her eyes—confused, vulnerable, open—isn’t something I want to mess with. Not tonight.

Instead, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re going to find it, Grace. Love, the real kind. And when you do, it’s going to be everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Her eyes glisten, and for a second, I think she might cry, but then she blinks, her walls snapping back into place, and she steps away.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Kane,” she says, her voice steady but distant. “But I think we both know better.”

I let her go, watching as she walks away, her steps quickand deliberate. And for the first time, I wonder if maybe I’m not just chasing her for the thrill of it. Maybe I’m chasing her because I can’t imagine not having her in my life.

And that? That scares the hell out of me because in this moment, I’m finally ready to admit to myself that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with Grace.

Chapter 9

Grace

Istare at the glass of apple juice in my hand, swirling the liquid as if it’ll magically give me the answers I’ve been avoiding. Wine does that; not apple juice, but my little peanut inside me demands apple juice.

The night breeze drifts through the open window, carrying the faint sound of waves from the harbor. It should be soothing, but it’s not. Not tonight.

Because my mind keeps replaying the evening with Kane. His words. That look in his eyes. The way he saw through me like no one else ever has.

“Not for you,” he’d said, like it was a fact written in the stars. Like he believed I was destined for more than the hollow ache that comes with pretending I don’t want love.

But he’s wrong. Isn’t he?

I take a sip of the juice, trying to drown out the memory of his voice, but it doesn’t work. Kane’s impossible, infuriating, reckless... and somehow, he’s gotten in my head in a way that no one else ever has.

It’s not just the way he teases me, though god knows that gets my blood boiling. It’s the way he looked at me tonight, his cocky smirk replaced by something raw, something real.Vulnerability in Kane is like seeing a crack in armor you didn’t think could break and damn it if it didn’t make me feel seen in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

I hate it.

I hate that he has this power over me, that I let him see me crumble for even a second. He called me incredible. Beautiful. Words that should’ve made me roll my eyes, but instead, they linger, pressing into my chest like they belong there.

“Get a grip, Grace,” I mutter to myself, setting the glass down with a little too much force.

The truth is, tonight rattled me. Not just because of Kane, but because of me. Because I let myself have hope. Hope that maybe he was right. That maybe I’m not as broken as I feel.

But then the memories come flooding back, the highlight reel of every failed relationship I’ve ever had. The arguments, the betrayals, the slow, painful unraveling of something I once thought was love. It’s like my brain is on autopilot, determined to remind me that I’m the common denominator in all of it.

There was James, who left me for someone “easier to deal with.” That’s how he’d put it. Easier. Like my sharp tongue and refusal to settle made me a burden he couldn’t carry.

And then there was Andrew, who promised me the world but gave it to someone else behind my back. I can still remember the way his excuses cut deeper than the betrayal itself. “You’re too guarded, Grace. You never let anyone in.”

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