Page 28 of Before Broken Vows

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"Theo. That's a nice name. Everyone calls me Stassi."

"Short for Anastasia?"

"Yes, Sir."

Fuck. That word hit harder than anything she could have said.

"I like the way that word sounds on your tongue, Stassi."

She arches a brow. "Is that so? Too bad I'm not the obedient type."

"Even better," I said. "I like a challenge."

She steps closer, heat in her gaze. "Believe me, sir, I'm more than you can handle."

She turns to walk out, but I grab her wrist and pull her back to me. She doesn't resist. Her body leans in, head tilting just enough to meet my eyes.

My gaze drops to her lips. Full. Dangerous. Tempting.

My, my, this girl is going to be trouble for me.

I kiss her.

She kisses me back—hungry, reckless—hands sliding up my chest as I run my fingers through her hair, tugging it just enough to make her gasp.

"Oh, you can be a good girl," I whisper against her lips. "I just know it."

She smirks. "I guess you'll have to find out."

Then she pushes me back with a smile, walks over to my desk, and writes her number on a scrap of paper.

"I'm only in town for a few more days," she says, turning over her shoulder, voice light. "But I can try and make time for you."

She was supposed to leave that Wednesday.

She stayed six more weeks.

And I had so much fun taming that wildfire of a woman.

We flew back to Chicago together.

And for the next three years, we lived between two worlds—hers and mine.

And for a while, I really thought she'd be my person. The one I'd hold onto. The one I'd never let go.

And then.

She was gone.

I blink again and I'm back in my kitchen, my hand still on her shoulder.

She's looking at me, eyes wide, lips parted. There's heat there. Memory. Pain.

I pull my hand back slowly.

"Sorry, I…I saw the scar and," I say and clear my throat, "I didn't know you had gotten hurt."

She gives me a forced smile. "It's nothing."

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