Page 75 of One Little Mistake

He’s doing this on purpose. I know it.

Testing me. Trying to rattle me.

But why?

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” I say coolly, lifting my eyes to meet his. There’s a hint of defiance in my gaze, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips—my way of showing him I’m not about to start blushing like a teenager around her celebrity crush.

But then his leg brushes mine under the table. Slowly. Purposefully. His hand tightens on my thigh. The scent of his cologne hits me like a drug—warm, masculine, magnetic. I feel this ridiculous urge to press my face into the crook of his neck and just breathe him in.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Is this hormones? The lack of intimacy in my life?

Why does his touch light me up like this?

There’s a lump caught in my throat. Screw it—I’ll play his game. I nudge his leg with the tip of my shoe, then slowly trail upward, all while keeping my eyes locked on his. Watching. Waiting.

A spark flickers in Max’s eyes. He leans back lazily in his chair, still watching only me. Heat radiates between us.

And suddenly, I wish I were twenty again. Then maybe I could let myself go—flirt, tease, not care about appearances or consequences. But I’m a grown woman. A mother. Sitting at a dinner table in someone else’s home, with people around us. I have no right.

Max drains his glass in one go. I glance at him, disapproving—he’s clearly drunk. That explains the sudden playfulness. His eyes shine, pupils slightly dilated, cheeks flushed, voice looser than usual.

And just like that, I’m pissed.

I pull away sharply. Then rise from my seat without another word.

“Excuse me, I’m just going to check on the kids,” I say with a forced smile, and step out of the room, feeling his gaze pinned to my back.

But I don’t go to the nursery.

I slip into the bathroom and head straight for the sink.

My reflection stares back at me—flushed, breathing unevenly. I reach for the cold water, then freeze. I’ve got makeup on. One splash and it’s ruined. I turn off the tap, brace my hands on the marble counter, and exhale through gritted teeth.

Then I hear it.

The door creaks open.

My heart skips a beat.

Max.

The soft click of the lock behind him echoes like a gunshot. We’re alone. Trapped.

My pulse pounds.

Thump—pause—thump-thump—pause.

He steps forward.

And I know he’s barely holding himself back.

And worse… I don’t want him to.

CHAPTER 28

Erin

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