Page 21 of Make Me Whole

Everything about this woman and this moment feltsogood.

My kisses grew more intense because they were no longer just about making her forget. They were for me as well, and for quenching the need I felt since I saw her in Al’s kitchen all those weeks ago, for the growing attraction I felt whenever we talked, and for the blossoming feelings I tried so hard to deny.

But I had denied them for a reason. Remembering that brought a wave of sobriety back to my horny mind.

This was wrong. It was amazing, for sure, but so very wrong.

She was Al’s girl. She was too young. And she was neither my wife nor a random pussy at a bar. By enjoying her kisses, her body, and her desire, I was cheating on too many people, and unlike her, I didn’t have the excuses of youth and pain to hide behind. I was old enough to know and act better.

Begrudgingly, I pulled my hand away from her pussy and slowed the kiss until it became just a peck on her lips. Already missing her lips, I pulled away from her mouth as my hands pulled her skirt down to cover her legs. Only when I sat back on my heels with a safe space between us did I open my eyes and look at her.

Skylar’s cheeks were flushed and lips swollen by my kisses. She also looked calmer and happy. It was glorious.And wrong!The voice of reason in my head reminded me. I wanted to roll my eyes at it, but I cleared my throat instead.

She opened her golden eyes and looked at me. “Why did you stop?”

I couldn’t help but smile at her breathlessness. “Because we’ve achieved the goal. You seem like someone who forgot many things.”

She giggled. It was the most wonderful sound. She reached for me again. “I haven’t forgotten everything yet. I think we should continue until my head is a blank slate.”

I laughed and stroked her cheek. “I think we’ve both forgotten too much already. You’re Al’s daughter, Sky. Not only that, but you’re almost half my age and my employee.”And the source of feelings that should only belong to Margery.“You and I are ten shades of wrong.”

“Kissing you didn’t feel wrong.”

Her honesty was disarming. And dangerous.

I took a deep breath. “No, sweetheart. Kissing me felt good—as did kissing you—but that doesn’t make it right. And you’ve had a lot of wrong in your life already. I don’t want to be another mistake. You deserve better.”

Not wanting to give her a chance to argue or convince me of something only my cock thought to be right, I stood up and shoved my hands in my pockets. Skylar closed her knees and looked up at me from under her lashes, her eyes sad and disappointed.

“I need to go home to get a fresh shirt. A pipe broke in the basement, and I got drenched. Then I’ll go to the hardware store for supplies and come back to fix that pipe.”

I tried to keep my tone light and believable. If she noticed I was full of shit, she didn’t show it. I hated myself for beingthat guy,the one who kisses the girl and then bolts, but it was for a good reason. I was doing the right thing, even though it was hard as fuck.

She nodded, grabbed my coffee cup and pastry, and walked me to the door. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. You do the same.” I awkwardly took the breakfast she offered and kissed her cheek. Her smell was intoxicating and made my cock twitch with a need to kiss her again. I didn’t, obviously. Instead, I whispered, “I’m sorry for losing control back there.”

Skylar was quiet for a second, then replied, “I’m not.”

With those two words between us, she turned around and entered the house, leaving me feeling so much regret and frustration.

* * *

The restof the day dragged on in a continuous loop of thinking of Skylar, getting a painful hard-on, and then pushing her out of my mind just so I could breathe. My need to kiss her again was so bad it was all I could think about.

By the time I returned to the house to fix that blasted pipe, the combination of my desire to finish what we had started and the accompanying guilt was so intense I entered through the back door like a thief and ran from the house after finishing the job as if the house were on fire. It was pathetic, but not embarrassing enough to keep me from avoiding her texts and canceling our usual dinner with the kids.

By the time Aiden and I were cooking dinner, I was sexually frustrated, mortified by my actions, and overall, feeling like a loser. Luckily, I had Aiden to cheer me up.

“How do you ask a foodie out to dinner?” he asked from his seat on the island.

I wasn’t sure if he was just in a good mood or if my Mel Gibson weirdness had tipped him off that I needed distraction from my mind, but he had taken upon himself the task of babbling until I was laughing—or dizzy. Today’s subject was stupid jokes about food.

“Dunno. How?”

“Lettuce meat for a date.”

He roared with laughter, and I groaned to hide my chuckles. His jokes were funny, even if most of them made me think of Skylar.

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