Page 70 of Dancing in the Rain

Her fingers curled over his shoulder and pulled him closer as they strained to get nearer to each other, their bodies generating enough heat to start a bonfire. Another frantic little noise in her throat made his dick jump.

A noise behind them slowly registered in the depths of his brain, and with equal shock they jerked away from each other. Their eyes met in a second of shared dismay and he threw himself back into the cushions of the couch and away from her.

It was the hospice nurse leaving.

“Good night, Peyton,” the woman said as she passed the living room on her way to the front door. “Your sister is sleeping.”

Peyton leaped to her feet, tugging on her T-shirt and smoothing her hair. “Ah, thank you, Isabelle.”

She followed her to the door, disappearing for a moment. Drew leaned his head back, eyes closed, his entire body throbbing with need, heat centered at his groin. He didn’t hear Peyton come back until she said quietly, “That shouldn’t have happened.”

He kept his eyes closed, fighting the lust that still pulsed inside him. She was right. Heknewshe was right. But goddammit, that hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt amazingly, heart-stoppingly perfect.

But this was a fucking messed-up situation with so many complications and shitty threads tangled up with the beautiful ones. They didn’t need to add more to that.

He sucked in a long breath and let it out, then lifted his head and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, hands twisting together in front of her. “You don’t need to apologize. We were both participating in that.”

“Damn, Peyton.” He surged to his feet and stalked toward her. He stared at her, and he recognized the frustration and disappointment he saw on her face. “Dammit.”

“I know,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “I know.”

They stood like that, so close but not touching, surrounded by a web of longing and loss, desire and regret. The air around them vibrated with the tug of all those emotions, the tension between them.

“We can’t do that,” she whispered, sadness filling her eyes. “We just can’t.”

“I know.” Fuck it, he did know. His hands clenched and unclenched. “I better go.”

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded, eyebrows sloped downward.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He was taking Chloe out tomorrow for their own birthday celebration.

She nodded and stepped aside so he could leave the room.

She drifted behind him as he walked to the front door, and it took all his strength not to sweep her up into his arms and hold her and carry her out with him. He wanted to take her home, to have her in his bed, to explore every inch of that sexy body and equally sexy mind, to make her feel so good. The things he wanted to do to her were shockingly, dick-raisingly explicit.

But it couldn’t happen.

“Night.”

“Good night, Drew.”

He stepped out into the cool darkness, the air scented with crisp autumn. The breeze stroked over his hot skin as he strode to his car and climbed in. When he glanced back at the door, Peyton still stood there silhouetted in the light from inside the house. He pressed his lips together, started his car, and pulled away.

Frustration turned to anger and he smacked a palm against the steering wheel. He shouldn’t have let himself get so carried away. What kind of asshole was he? Yeah, they were clearly attracted to each other, but they were on the same goddamn page—they could not go there.

It couldn’t happen again.

Chapter 14

Drew had racked his brain trying to think of what to do with Chloe on Sunday for their birthday outing. He was getting a better sense of what she enjoyed, but he wanted to do something fun. Possibly the zoo? She’d probably been there a million times. Navy Pier? Maybe.

Then he’d tripped over the perfect idea, literally, as he nearly crashed into two teenagers in-line skating down the sidewalk in front of his place. Yeah! Skating. He hadn’t used his for a while but it would feel great to skate. And he could teach Chloe. Assuming she didn’t already know.

He arrived at the Watt home around eleven. He rang the doorbell, despite having a key, because that seemed politer. Chloe answered the door, her long hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Her smile seemed genuine but forced. “Hi, Drew.”

“Hi.”

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