The thought slams into me like a wrecking ball, twisting in my gut, making it harder to breathe. My hands clench into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I fight the urge to reach for her—to take what I can never have.
Because the truth isn’t just ugly. It’s damning.
I didn’t just betray her by loving another woman.
I destroyed her family.
Maybe not with my own hands, maybe not in the way that would leave blood on my skin—but the stain is still there. Permanent. Unforgivable. And if she ever finds out—whenshe finds out—this fire between us will turn to ash.
She will hate me.
She will leave.
And for that reason alone, I force myself to do what I do best.
I push her away.
The air between us hums, so thick with unsaid words it’s suffocating. For one wild second, maybe she thinks I’ll take it back. That I’ll reach for her, pull her close, kiss her like it’s the only language we still understand.
But I don’t.
I cover the want with anger, drown the ache in cruelty.
I just stand there.
A man holding back a hurricane. A man fighting a storm, I know will win.
And Maria?
Maria has no choice but to become the storm.
The low rumbleof thunder pulls me from my sleep, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to my skin like a second layer. My jaw clenches as I sit up, pressing my palms against my face. The room is too quiet, too still, and for a moment, I feel the weight of the past pressing down on me.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair before pushing the sheets aside. Sleep won’t be coming back anytime soon. I can feel the heaviness in my chest settling in. I need something to take the edge off.
Pulling on a pair of sweats, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, my bare feet soundless against the cold marble. The storm outside is intensifying, flashes of lightning illuminating the dimly lit hallway. It’s fitting, really—my mind is just as chaotic as the weather outside.
Reaching for a glass from the cupboard, I fill it with water, taking slow sips as I lean against the counter. My thoughts area jumbled mess. The scent of her lingers in my sheets, taunting me, reminding me of the night we spent together. Of how she felt beneath me, how she looked up at me with something dangerously close to trust in her eyes.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
I never should’ve touched her.
A soft sound breaks the silence.
Footsteps. I hear them move across the marble floor, just barely audible beneath the crack of thunder.
I turn my head just as Maria appears at the entrance, dressed in one of those silk nightgowns that shouldn’t be allowed around a man like me. Flashes of her in the red lingerie invade my mind, and I have to push them back forcefully so I can focus.
Her chameleon eyes widen slightly when she notices me, but she doesn’t turn away. Instead, she walks to the fridge without a single word, pulling out a bottle of water. The tension between us is thick and tangible, and for a moment, I consider letting her leave without a word.
There is no need to try and bring her to a stop. All that needed to be said was said last night. My words have pricked and scarred her little heart. I should let her go.
But I don’t.
“Maria.”
She stills. I see her back visibly tense, and my heart clambers to a pause in the middle of my chest. I deserve her coldness. I had been too harsh with her last night. She was only trying to take steps toward something real. The only problem? I didn’t want anything real. I can’t allow this to happen.