Page 54 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
“Sienna.”
“No,” I croaked, shaking my head, taking a step back. “I’m so goddamn stupid. I let myself feel something for someone who disappeared the second things got real. This is… This isworse, Matt. I can’t do this.”
I turned, my heart hammering in my chest, pulse loud in my ears, hands shaking as I moved toward the door. I needed to get out. I needed air, needed to go home, needed to be as far away from him as possible.
I didn’t get far.
His hand closed around my wrist, not painful or rough butfirm, and in a single breath, he spun me back toward him.
I didn’t have a second to react before his mouth crashed into mine.
Hard. Angry. Desperate, like he needed it to breathe.
I didn’t move — just froze, stunned, tears still hot on my face, but his hands cupped my cheeks, holding me to him, warm and stupidly regretful and everything I didn’t want to want from him.
Then he pulled back. Just barely, just an inch between us, his breathing ragged, hovering over my lips like he didn’t dare take more until I gave him permission.
I looked up at him. My chest heaved, my throat closed — andfuck, his eyes burned into mine with a thousand apologies I didn’t want to accept.
But something in me snapped.
My fingers knotted in the front of his shirt, and I yanked, pulling him back down to me. He groaned against my mouth like it was splitting him open, but I didn’t care.
My back hit the wall a second later, his hands cradling my jaw like he didn’t know how to be gentle right now but couldn’t help trying. I pushed mine into his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, his breath hard against my lips, his body pressing into mine like he was trying to anchor himself here.
His mouth moved against mine with need, no control, no restraint. And mine answered with fury, with anger, with anachehe’d put there in the two weeks I’d tried to bury him.
I kissed him like I hated him.
I kissed him like Imissedhim.
I wasn’t sure when his hands had moved to my waist or how we’d moved from anger to something rougher, darker,hotter. But he kissed me like he’d been starving, like he’d been holding back every second he’d known me, and it was all snapping at once, and I met him right there in the goddamn wreckage.
His fingers dug in like he needed proof I was still here and real and didn’t hate him enough to stop. His knee nudged between my thighs, pinning me in place.
I was already shaking, alreadywet, already too far gone to talk sense into myself and walk out the door. And he kissed me like there were a thousand unsaid things caught in his throat.
“Upstairs,” he rasped, his voice broken, destroyed. “Now.”
He bent, hands firm on the back of my thighs, and lifted me in one motion like I weighed nothing, like he needed me locked around him. Quick and uneven, he carried me up the stairs, the soft thud of each step lost between our breaths.
I wasn’t thinking.Couldn’tif I wanted to. I hated him, I wanted him, and I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
At the top of the stairs, he paused just long enough to press me against the wall again, kissing me like he couldn’t even bear the space between rooms. My head dropped back with a soft thud against the drywall when his lips found my neck, my jaw, my collarbone, desperate and unrestrained.
“Was it worth it?” I breathed, my head spinning.
He didn’t stop. But the tension shifted, walls half-erected around me.
“You got what you wanted,” I whispered. “The deal. The show, the revenge. And you ended up hurting me in the process.”
He exhaled heavy, his forehead coming up to rest against mine, his throat almost wheezing from how hard he breathed.
“Was it worth it?” I asked again.
“I would change what I did if I could,” he said, his voice broken. “I’m sorry. I should have said it before.”
I went still.
