It would be so easy to find out. I knew she wanted me to kiss her, and if I had any doubts she might have been flirting with me, they faded away. She had been. And she would do it again. I could see it written across her face. She’d always been easy to read.

It was her biggest weakness.

Mine was her. The way she made me feel.

I cradled her soft cheek with one hand, not daring to move anything else. If I did, I might lose control. And I couldn’t afford to do that. “Lilly…”

She lifted on her tiptoes, as if she wanted me to kiss her, and I shook my head once. It took more self-control than I thought to back away. If she looked at me like that two nights ago, when I was drunk, she would have gotten a different response.

But she hadn’t.

So I stepped back.

She seemed disappointed for a second, but she shook it off. “Just…think about it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I could seduce her again, break her heart again, and rip her family apart….

Again.

Okay, so maybe my mother would never throw me a welcome-home-prodigal-son party when I finally told her I was home, and Lilly’s father, good ol’ Walt, washed his hands of me when I kissed his precious daughter, thereby putting an end to his plans to groom me as his heir apparent.

But I didn’t want to rip her family apart.

She obviously loved them both.

“Please? For me?” she asked. “I live at 5 James Place.”

Hearing her ask me all sweetly like that, all innocence and kindness, made it hard to say no. I got that annoying softness feeling again, creeping up my spine, and it wouldn’t let go. It was as if I were eighteen all over again, the phantom smell of freshly baked cookies tickling my nose. Surely I could keep my shit together and live with her, like she wanted. Surely I could keep my hands to myself….

Doc had told me to let her in. To give her a chance to see the real me. Maybe I could try it. “I don’t know.” I shoved my hands through my hair. “Thanks for the coffee, and the donut. I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

She swallowed hard, nodded, and picked up her sunglasses. Head held high, she walked out of the motel room, but froze at the door. “I think, if you let us, we could be friends, like we were before. I think we still have a lot more in common than you might think. Give me a chance to show you.”

The door closed behind her, leaving me alone once more. And, God help me, I wanted to believe her. I couldn’t help but feel this was some sort of test. A purgatory for me, to make up for all my past sins. To prove I was a changed man. One who could look temptation in the eye and walk away.

But I knew life, and I knew me.

And I knew I wouldn’t be that man.

Chapter 6

Lilly

Later that night, after a long day of monotonous interning at Daddy’s office, and him barking orders at me all afternoon, I pulled up to my townhome and parked in the driveway. I’d planned to go dancing tonight. To be rebellious again. To have fun. But being rebellious was exhausting, and I was tired.

So I came home, expecting to find it empty, like always.

Instead, I found a black truck parked in the driveway.

It had an army sticker in the window, but even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t take rocket science to figure out whose it was. Jackson had moved in.

He’d actually done it.

My heart rate increased, taking off faster than a jet on a runway. After our conversation and the kind of, sort of, fight earlier today, I wasn’t so sure he would accept my offer. But he had. He was here. This was our second chance.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my hands out, rolled my shoulders, and exited my car. The moon shone off the hood of his truck, and stars lit up the sky. In the distance, I swore I could just barely make out the lights of never-resting Washington, D.C.

The brick townhome with huge bay windows and white siding was as familiar to me as the moon was, as were the cicadas singing in the darkness, and yet the nerves bunching in my stomach were brand-new. It was hot and muggy out, but I knew inside it would be even hotter—because Jackson Worthington was waiting for me.

In our home. Alone.

Opening the door, I set my purse and keys on the table directly to the side of the door. Familiar light yellow walls and wooden floors greeted me, but the boxes at the bottom of the stairs weren’t familiar. Nor was the big TV resting against the wall. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, out here. In the kitchen.”

I followed his voice. “I see you decided to move in. Good. This will give us a chance to really get to—” Know each other. That was what I’d been about to say.

But I rounded the corner, and the words shriveled up and died a horrible death inside my mouth. Because there, standing in front of the fridge, holding a beer, was a shirtless, sweaty, extremely hot Jackson. He had on a pair of tight jeans, and all I could do was drool over the spot right above the button of his fly, where the happy trail led a torturous path below his waistline. God, I’d never wanted to follow an established path more than I did right here. Right now.

With my tongue. My hands. Anything.

His whole face sparkled with…life…and his hair stuck up in places as if he’d been dragging his hands through it all night long. He bit down on his tongue and smiled in a sexy way that made my insides turn into jelly. “I like your shirt.”

“I. Uh. I—” Crap. No. I could do this. Keep my cool. Act as if I weren’t being eaten alive with forbidden lust. I glanced down at my shirt that said Keep Calm and Let It Go on it. Wait. He’d seen Frozen? Had he been like those military guys in the video that had gone viral, singing along to Idina Menzel in their barracks? “I mean, yeah. Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” He lifted his Heineken to his mouth and took a swig. I couldn’t look away from his Adam’s apple as it bobbed, or from his hard, uneven jawline. It was better than staring blatantly at his happy trail, though. “You were saying?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Oh. Right. I’m glad you moved in.”

“Thanks,” he said, pressing his beer bottle to the side of his temple. “I hope you don’t live to regret it.”

I laughed uneasily.

We stared at one another.

Even though the conversation had been innocent and generic, I couldn’t help but think there was a tension to it. A sexual tension we wouldn’t be able to avoid for much longer. But that was just my imagination. He had told me he didn’t want me anymore.

I needed to listen.

My attention fell to the scar he told me about this morning. It looked as if it had hurt a lot, which made me wonder if anyone had helped him through the pain. If he’d had anyone by his side. A hero like him should never be alone.

After a while, he cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. And was it just me, or did he check out my boobs? Nope. It still had to be my imagination. Or he was just being a normal guy, and staring at boobs, as men do. “Do you want a beer?”

“God, yes,” I said quickly. Maybe it would take the edge off the desire eating me alive. “Please.”

He set his own beer aside and opened the fridge, pulling out another. There was only one left in the six-pack, so he must’ve polished off a few already. Four beers in, and he didn’t look even the slightest bit tipsy. But looks could be deceiving.

Especially when it came to Jackson.