Chapter 95: Ninety Five
By the time the crowd had thinned out a little and the music had shifted from upbeat pop to something slower, warmer, and more languid, I’d had enough alcohol to feel my cheeks buzzing. Somewhere behind me, someone laughed too loudly. I didn’t turn to see who. My eyes had been locked on Declan all night, whether I meant them to or not.
He’d been doing the same thing. All subtle, casual glances that weren’t casual at all. I knew him too well.
Why were we doing this?
This was stupid of me.
I knew, I would wake up at home the next morning and regret this. The flirting, the touching. But he was doing it, too.
Was some harmless flirting with an ex okay when you had your fiance and kid waiting for you at home?
I was sitting on the couch near the window, a drink in my hands, pretending to be engaged in a conversation with one of my colleagues about some upcoming funding proposal. But my mind wasn’t there. It was with him. Always with him.
He stood a few feet away, leaning against the bar, talking to a woman I vaguely recognized from HR. She was laughing at something he’d said, her hand brushing his arm. I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself that I had no right to care. But my stomach twisted all the same.
He was talking to so many women today. And of course, they were all eating it up. He was hot and smart and such a smooth talker.
He looked up then, right at me. And the room seemed to quiet in my head. His expression shifted just slightly, just enough for me to see the awareness there, the unspoken pull. I noticed as he licked his lips to prevent a smirk from appearing on his face.
Asshole.
I excused myself mid-sentence and walked toward the balcony. I needed air, or space, or maybe just to stop feeling like my skin was too tight for my body.
The balcony was dimly lit, the night air cool against my flushed cheeks. The city stretched out beyond me in a sprawl of blinding lights. I gripped the railing and tried to breathe.
A moment later, I heard the door slide open.
I felt him before I heard him.
“Thought you might’ve left by now,” Declan’s voice came, low and unsteady, like the drinks had gotten to him too.
I didn’t look at him right away. “Needed some air.”
His footsteps drew closer until he was beside me. He leaned on the railing, his shoulder brushing mine. That one small point of contact sent a ripple through me.
“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said, not accusing; just stating it, like a fact.
“Have not,” I muttered, eyes fixed on the skyline.
He gave a short laugh. “Willow, you’re a terrible liar.”
I turned to look at him then, my pulse high in my veins. His face was so close. I could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the crease between his brows, the way his eyes softened when they met mine.
“You were busy,” I said. “With… HR.”
Something flickered in his gaze; amusement, maybe, or something sharper. “She was telling me about her cat, if you must know.”
I looked away quickly, embarrassed at how ridiculous, how jealous I had sounded.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Is that why you came out here? Because you didn’t like seeing me talk to someone else?”
The heat that rushed through me had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, but it came out weaker than I intended. “Its none of my business. You are free to whore around the office.”
He studied me for a long moment, and I hated how much I wanted him to read my mind. I wanted him to speak to me and only me.
“You look…” He hesitated, like the words might be too much. “Beautiful tonight.”
My breath caught. “Declan.”
“I know,” he said, a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “I know I shouldn’t.” He breathed deeply, “There’s a reason I’ve been maintaining distance tonight.”
The silence between us was heavy.
“You look good enough to devour.” He paused, “I have to remind myself…that things have changed. You are not mine, anymore.”
I turned to face him fully, and for once I didn’t try to mask anything. “Then why does it feel like we’re always right there?” I whispered.
His jaw tightened. “I never stopped being there.”
Before I could respond, he stepped closer. My back brushed the cool metal of the railing, and his scent, familiar and dangerous, filled the space between us.
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” I said, my voice trembling.
His eyes searched mine. “No, not yet.”
The word hung there, heavy. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I knew I should walk away. I knew I should think of Jacob, of Noah, of all the reasons this couldn’t happen. But then his hand brushed against mine on the railing, slow, deliberate, and I didn’t move.
The music from inside drifted out in muffled waves, some slow, aching melody that seemed to sync with the rhythm of my breathing. Or maybe it was his breathing.
“Willow…” His voice was low, ragged, almost pleading.
And maybe it was the drinks in my system, or maybe it was years of holding my breath around him, but I finally let myself look at him the way I wanted to.
His eyes darkened, and before I could second-guess it, he leaned in.
The first brush of his lips was hesitant, almost like he was giving me one last chance to pull away. I didn’t. Instead, I tilted my head, and the kiss deepened, years of tension and longing folding into that one reckless moment.
It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, and hungry, and so full of everything we’d never said. My hands curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. His forehead rested against mine, and his voice was a whisper.
“This is a bad idea.”
“I know,” I said, my voice shaking. “But I can’t..”
“I know,” he interrupted, and the way he looked at me then, like I was both the reason he breathed and the reason it hurt, made my chest ache.
We stood there for a long moment, breathing each other in, until the sound of laughter from inside broke the spell.
I stepped back first. “We should… go back.”
“Yeah,” he said, but his eyes stayed on me a beat too long.
When we walked back inside, nothing looked different. But everything had changed.