I pour a coffee and look out of the window at the ocean view but it’s a poor substitute for what I’d see if I went back to bed. Leaving Lucia alone to wake up in a strange bed is a shitty thing to do, but it’s kinder than what would have happened if I’d stayed there with her. I close my eyes and my cock twitches as I remember waking with her perfect round ass nestled against me. How easy it would have been to slide myself inside her hot, wet pussy.
“Fuck!” I mumble. I should go back in there right now and do exactly that, but that would be unfair to her. And that would turn one night into this morning too, and maybe the afternoon, and that cannot happen.
Because one night can be explained away, can’t it? Forgiven even? A mistake. A momentary lapse in judgement. Even if I did spend almost the entirety of said night buried inside her. Even if I said far too much about claiming her and wanting her to feel me inside her forever. That was an asshole move, even if it is true, because being with her felt right and made sense in a way that nothing ever has before her, and nothing might again.
The sound of soft footsteps padding over the wooden floor breaks my train of thought and I turn around to see her walking into the room. That mini dress looks even better on her this morning, with her freshly fucked hair and her beautiful face devoid of any make up. She looks innocent and sinful in equal measure and it turns the twitch in my cock into a throb.
She looks down at the floor, the wildcat in her completely subdued as she heads into the kitchen.
“You want some coffee?” I offer.
“Please,” she whispers, still refusing to make eye contact with me and I recognize that look on her face. She is full of regret and guilt. That’s good though, right? It’s what I feel too. I should let her feel that, because then she would realize that this thing between us can never happen again.
I walk toward her and she looks up at me, her huge brown eyes wide and full of something so much more—anxiety and shame and something else I can’t put my finger on. She is questioning her own worth when she should be questioning mine. I am the only one at fault here.
And that’s when I realize I can’t do this to her. Before she met Alana and Alejandro, she had a horrible childhood full of abuse and neglect. Everyone who was ever supposed to protect her let her down and I know how the scars of our past can leave a mark. As much as she is fearless and independent and tough, she is also vulnerable and full of self doubt.
I reach out and run my hand over her arm. Her skin is soft and warm and the memory of trailing my lips and tongue over every part of her burns a fresh imprint into my brain.
“Lucia,” I say and her name almost gets caught in my throat. “Last night was…”
She blinks at me, her eyes searching my face for what? Approval? Validation? And isn’t that what I get off on? I should tell her it was a mistake, but I can’t. “Incredible,” I finish and right there is the moment I have just fucked up her life, because that smile, it’s one I never want another man to see. It’s mine!
“You’re incredible. But you and me can never happen,” I say with a heavy sigh.
“Because of my father?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I admit but as much as that is true, it’s not the only reason. “And because I’m way too old for you, Lucia.”
“You’re only thirty-seven,” she frowns at me.
“Yeah, and you’re only twenty-one, Angel. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and I bite back a smile because it is good to see the feistiness in her again. “You say that like you’re some decrepit old man, Jax. You still have your whole life too.”
My hand runs up her arm and her nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of her dress so I drop it to my side before my cock starts to take over the show. “But I have lived so much more than you have. I have done—”
“You mean you’ve screwed around?” she snaps.
“That’s not what I meant, but yes, there is that.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Can we not just see last night for what it was?”
“And what was that?”
There she is again, searching my face for some validation. This time I can’t give it to her. “A night of amazing sex between two consenting adults?” Fuck! Could I have worded that any fucking worse than I just did?
“You’re an asshole, Jax,” she says. A tear runs down her cheek and she wipes it away with her hand, then turns on her heel and walks out of the room.
My instincts tell me to run after her and wrap her in my arms. My cock tells me to carry her back to bed and put that smart mouth of hers to better use.
I do neither, thinking with my head, which is after all what I do ninety-nine percent of the time. So why didn’t I last night? Why didn’t I let her go home with that guy from the club? Maybe he could offer her something I can’t? But something about seeing his hands on her, the way she looked at him, it overpowered every single rational thought in my brain.
