Page 160 of Sinful Games

I grunted in response just as Caia stepped out of her building, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. A guy in a black tracksuit helped her down the stairs, wrapping his arms around her waist. My grip on the wheel tightened as I watched her kiss the guy on the cheek and wave him off before heading toward my car.

“Gotta go,” I muttered, ending the call.

Who the hell was that?

Steven?

He's dead meat.

I stepped out of the car, locking eyes with the guy still standing at the top of the stairs, sizing us up. His gaze lingered too long for my liking. I shot him a dark look, not breaking eye contact until I had Caia’s duffel bag in hand and tossed it into the backseat. Once she was in the car, I slammed the door harder than I needed to. The tension in the air was suffocating as I fired up the engine, peeling away from the curb, tires screeching against the pavement.

Caia’s voice broke through the simmering silence. "Sorry for ruining your day," she muttered, fidgeting in her seat, her eyes glued to her lap.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I replied, my voice curter than intended. I reached out, brushing her hand lightly. She tensed immediately, pulling away and crossing her arms.

Great.

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to play it off like her reaction didn’t bother me. But it did. Like a fucking punch straight to the neck.

“Thanks,” she whispered, almost too quiet to hear over the roar of the engine.

We fell into a heavy silence as I drove through the city. Even at this time of night, New York’s streets buzzed with life. People, lights, noise—everything kept moving. But inside the car, it was just the two of us, and the distance between us felt wider than ever.

I finally pulled into the underground garage of my building. Killing the engine, the sudden quiet hit like a slap. The dim lighting made everything feel more suffocating as we sat there, neither of us moving.

I got out first, grabbing her duffel bag from the back. Wordlessly, I opened her door, and she followed, head down, as we walked toward the elevator. The sound of our footsteps echoed in the cold, concrete silence.

Fuck, things had never been this awkward between us.

I stole a glance at her, noticing the way her brow was furrowed, the tight press of her lips.

Damn it, how did we get here? I had to make her see that I was still me, still her Lexi, her husband. But right now, all I could do was keep moving forward, hoping I’d find a way to tear down whatever walls were between us.

As we stepped into the elevator, I forced a grin. “Don’t worry, no mid-ride make-out sessions this time,” I joked, tossing a wink her way.

The memory of our last elevator kiss flashed through my mind—coming back from the movies, hands all over each other, the way I stopped the damn thing just to kiss her like my life depended on it. It was deep, intense, the kind of kiss that sticks with you.

And days later, she asked me to do it all over again.

As Caia looked up, her cheeks took on a faint pinkish hue, her eyes shy. "Oh, you remember," she said softly, a little chuckle escaping her lips.

Her reaction hit me in all the right places, and I couldn't help but smile.

"I told you, Caia," I said, my voice low and rough. "I doubt there’s anything I could ever forget about you."

I said the words I’d told her a couple of years ago, back when she still hated me—or rather, hated how much she was drawn to me.

But hell, it was the truth.

I rememberedeverything.

Every word, every touch, every goddamn moment we’d shared was burned into my mind like a brand. Every time she laughed, every time she cried, the way she’d look at me—like I was her entire world. I remembered it all, and fuck if I didn’t want to relive every second, to have her by my side again.

A faint, sad smile played on her lips. «I remember everything, too," she whispered, a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if the memories were both a blessing and a curse.

Our eyes locked—her green against my blue—and I swear it took everything in me not to reach out, grab her by the chin, and kiss her until she forgot how to breathe. Until she remembered what it felt like to be mine.

But I couldn’t.

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