“That’s good.” I dig the toe of my boot into the pavement.
“You want to speak to me?” she prods again.
“The little girl… Max was able to find her mother.”
Her eyes widen, tears immediately forming on her lower lashes. “Really?”
She grabs my hand in her excitement, and I feel the warmth of her palm all the way into my chest.
“Yes. They’re working on a reunification plan.”
“That’s amazing news.”
As if the heaven’s open, an angel raining good fortune down on me, she lifts up on her toes and presses a kiss to my lips.
It’s over much too soon, a rather platonic thank you than one filled with passion.
“I appreciate you telling me,” she says, beginning to pull her hand from mine.
I grip it harder, staring down at that connection like the lifeline that it is.
“Sylvie,” I whisper.
“Do you want to come to my house?” she asks as she looks up at me.
I should tell her no. I can tell from the look in her eyes what she’s wanting, maybe what she needs. Fuck, I need the same thing, but it’s only a fraction of what I want to share with this woman.
“Yes,” I answer before I can stop myself, because I know having the conversation I want to have in a damn parking lot isn’t the best place.
She may not see things my way at first, but she also isn’t physically strong enough to remove me from her home while I argue my case. Right now, she could drive off if she isn’t interested.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s a bad omen when she releases my hand despite the devious smile on her face that promises so many things.
Chapter 39
Sylvie
I know that nothing will ruin the mood more than me wrecking my car on the way back to my house, so I drive as safely as I can as my head swirls with plans.
I don’t bother pulling into the garage when I arrive, choosing to park in the driveway and rush toward the front door.
I’m pulling my shirt over my head as the roar of his motorcycle silences outside. I fucking ache for this man, and as much as I have argued to myself about how bad of an idea this is, I need what he has to offer. I know a just-sex relationship isn’t possible because of my feelings for him, but beggars can’t be choosers either.
I’ll deal with the aftermath tomorrow or the day after if I’m lucky enough to convince him to stick around a little longer than he may be planning.
His eyes widen when he steps inside without knocking, like he owns the place.
“Sylvie.” My name is a needy growl on his lips.
“You haven’t forgotten me then?” I tease.
His head shakes. “Not a chance. You’re always on my fucking mind.”
His declaration should make me feel good, but if it were true, then why the silence, the distance, the pain I’ve felt for weeks and weeks.
“Yeah?” I say as I pull down the zipper on my jeans.
I won’t let the ache in my chest derail the pleasure I know my body is going to feel.