Page 80 of The Widower
Colin didn’t answer. He just looked me over from head to toe.
“I came to take her home.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“And who the hell are you?” Alfred demanded.
“I’m Isabelle’s boss.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow, turning to me for confirmation.
“Is that true?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I’m not on duty. What the hell are you doing, Colin?”
“As I said, I came to take you home.”
“And who said I want to go home with you?”
“Oh, you’re coming with me. You can bet on that.”
“Buddy, here’s the thing—she doesn’t want to go with you.”
“I’m not your buddy, and she’s coming.”
“What’s your problem?” I burst out, my voice shaking with anger. I took a step toward him, my heart racing, my face burning—and then I saw it in his eyes. It wasn’t fury. It was desperation.
“My problem,” he said, his voice rough, breaking through the noise, “is that I can’t get you out of my damn head!”
The air left my lungs.
The silence that followed lasted only seconds, but it was enough to make me feel everything—my pulse hammering in my chest, the heat crawling up my neck, the messy mix of anger and something else I refused to name.
And then Colin kissed me.
It was fast, almost violent, like he needed to shut everything up at once—the anger, the longing, the pride. The shock froze me, but the touch of his lips set me on fire. Thatkiss didn’t ask for permission. It was raw, desperate, years of emotion crashing all at once.
I tried to resist, but my body didn’t listen. His taste, his warmth, the sound of our ragged breathing—everything pulled me closer. His hand slid along the side of my face, and I felt the weight of everything he wasn’t saying—pain, guilt, want.
When I finally responded, the kiss changed.
The force gave way to something slower, deeper. It was as if he was terrified of losing me right there. His lips moved with care, tracing the rhythm of my breath, and the air between us thickened—charged, heavy, full of meaning I couldn’t quite understand.
Time stopped.
All that existed was the heat of his skin, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, and that kiss—confusing, intense, inevitable.
When he finally pulled back, his face stayed close to mine, his breath unsteady, his eyes locked on my lips. Neither of us said a word.
There was nothing to say. Because in that moment, we both knew—that kiss hadn’t been a mistake.
It was the point of no return.
And if you think that kiss was just a kiss, you’re wrong.It was real—raw—like I belonged to him. Even when it ended, hebit my lip, as if to make sure I’d remember it. But his eyes… his eyes were still burning with anger when they met mine.
“What the hell was that, Colin?” Henry appeared beside us, and I suddenly realized a bunch of people were watching. “Did you really need to make a whole scene?”
“Go home,” Colin said, his voice low but firm. “I’ll handle things with Isabelle.We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
