Page 39 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"I want to know too," I admitted. "But I'm scared."
"Of what?"
Of telling you about your children. Of watching you walk away when you realize how I've deceived you. Of letting myself hope for something I can't have.
"Of making another mistake."
He shifted closer, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Maybe some mistakes are worth making."
His thumb traced along my jawline, and I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch despite every rational thought screaming at me to stop. When I opened them again, he was studying my face as if memorizing it.
"Ivy." His voice was rough, uncertain. "Can I kiss you?"
The question was so gentle. He didn't have to ask, but he had. I thought of my children sleeping at home, of my father waiting for answers I couldn't give, of the life I'd built on secrets and lies.
I thought of the loneliness in Duncan's voice when he talked how miserable his life was. I thought of the way he'd held my hand as if it were something precious.
"Yes," I whispered.
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to change my mind. When his lips met mine, it was nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses we'd shared over the past several weeks. This was careful, questioning, a conversation without words.
I kissed him back, my free hand fisting in the soft wool of his sweater. He tasted of coffee and mint, and of chances I'd thought were lost forever.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.
"We should probably talk about what this means," he said.
"Should we?" My heart thudded in my ears.
"Two adults, complicated history, working relationship…"
"Are you asking me to define this?" And how could I define it. This situationship was a torpedo aimed to sink my ship.
"I'm asking if you want there to be a 'this' to define."
I pulled back to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed where my fingers had tangled in it. His eyes held hope and uncertainty in equal measure.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I want to. But there are things you don't know about me, about my life in Maine."
"Then tell me."
The invitation was simple, but the truth was anything but. How could I explain that I'd spent three years raising his children? That every day I looked at faces that were mirrors of his own? That I'd built a life around a secret so big it had its own heartbeat?
"It's complicated," I said instead.
"Everything worth having is complicated."
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I let myself get lost in it. Let myself pretend, for these stolen moments, that the truth didn't exist. That we were just two people finding each other again after too much time apart.
But eventually, reality intruded. My phone buzzed with a text from Lauren.
Lauren 9:27 PM: All three asleep. Elena asked for you twice but settled down. Take your time.
I pulled away from Duncan reluctantly. "I should go. It's getting late."
"Stay." The word was soft, hopeful. "We could talk more. Or not talk."
"I can't. My father expects me home."
