Awkward silence filled the room. Will blinked, floundering for a second to make sense of my left-field outburst. Heat stung my cheeks. Great. My shoulders hunched, and all I wanted was to slide underneath the table and disappear. Will had practiced black crafting right under my nose for years because, when it came right down to it, he was insecure. And now here I was waving my insecurities around like a giant Yellow Jackets flag at a Georgia Tech basketball game.

His entire body had stilled. All of his focus zoned straight in on my sudden revelation. “What did you just say?”

“Never mind.” I rubbed my face.

“Why would you think I’m getting married?”

I peeked at him over the tips of my fingers. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Nuh-uh. You don’t get off that easy.” He pushed off the counter and then pulled out the chair across from me, turning it around to sit and rest his arms across the back. “What made you say that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You just seemed like you had something to say, something that bothered you. I thought …”

The bastard had the nerve to grin the smile that could melt snow. In fact, his utter pleasure at my expense lit up his entire face. “Charlie, I’m not engaged. I don’t have a girlfriend. I’ve seen a few women here and there, but nothing serious.”

“Great. Wonderful. Good for you,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Conversing with my ex was obviously a bad idea. My emotions were going haywire, and I couldn’t seem to think straight. It was perfectly normal to miss him. I mean, we were together for twelve years. Totally normal to miss being close, to miss wanting that kind of connection. “Emma should be home soon.”

“Charlie.” His voice came out low and serious. I didn’t want to look at him, but he waited until I finally lifted my gaze to his. He stared at me from across the table for a long moment, his expression wide open and honest as hell. “I still love you, you know.”

The world came to a screeching halt.

I shot up from the table. All the old hurts came rushing back, constricting my chest so that breathing took more effort than it should. “God dammit, Will. You can’t say things like that.”

He stood. “Why not? It’s true. I’ve never stopped, not even when—”

I held up my hand, not wanting to hear or think about the night he’d risked our marriage out of pure male pride and a gigantic helping of stupidity.

“Fine.” He grabbed my arm, making me face him. “But I know what I did, Charlie. And one day you’ll see beyond all this pain I caused you. And as much as you try to deny it, you know, in my heart, I never wanted to cheat. You know I believed so much in us, in our promise, that I’d pit it against—”

“You never should have! That’s the whole point! You don’t risk something so important. You don’t bet on our vows. And you sure as shit don’t lie and hide what you’re doing!” I jerked my arm away from him. “Especially when it’s wrong. Black crafting is wrong, Will, no matter what spin you put on it. And you hid it, lied to me, for years. You knew how I felt about it, that those guys who killed my brother were black crafters. I even died because of it! You could have built up the business all on your own. You had it in you. You didn’t need to resort to crafting.”

“I tried for years! You think it was easy being straight out of high school with a family to support and no college education? I started crafting to help us, to give us an edge. Don’t you think I—” He stopped himself, his lips snapping shut and the muscle in his jaw flexing.

His hand closed around my arm again. “I know what I lost, believe me, I do. I know it every second of every goddamn day, and I’m tired of being punished. I’m tired of being without you and Em.” He grabbed my other arm. His palms felt so rough and warm on my skin. He took a breath and searched my face. We were so close our stomachs touched. “I made a horrible mistake, but I’m clean now. I’ve been clean since that night. My addiction ruined everything, I know, and you had every right to divorce that guy. But that’s not who I am anymore, Charlie.”

His hand cupped my cheek. His plea rang in my head and squeezed my heart. Despite everything, I still had deep feelings for him, and, God, how I missed him. I swallowed, willing myself not to cry, to show weakness.

“Charlie.” He touched his forehead to mine, his voice dropping to a heartbroken whisper. “God, I miss you.” He let out a shaky breath, touched his nose to mine, and then tilted his head slightly to kiss me.

The hurt vanished with the press of his warm lips against mine, the intimate touch sending a confetti-like explosion to the pit of my stomach. My heart pounded in my ears, my legs weakened. “Will,” I whispered against his lips, meaning to regretfully pull away, but the moment I opened my mouth, his tongue brushed my bottom lip. I moaned, parting my lips to allow him in.

Dear God, the man could kiss.

That first touch of tongue on tongue ignited a desperate need to feel again just for a moment. His tongue slid against mine, unhurried and confident. He walked me back against the wall, pressing his erection into my hip bone and his thigh between my legs. Need blossomed from that point and sped like lightning throughout my body, making me lose hold on reality. All I wanted was Will. On me. In me. As close to me as he could get. The familiarity of his smell, his touch, his taste. Overwhelmed, I pulled away from him to catch my breath. His hand was on my breast.

“My pants,” I blurted out, not caring anymore. Not caring that my voice shook or my hands trembled. It had been so long. And Will knew every button to push, knew just how I liked it. “Get them off.”

We had a good ten minutes before the bus arrived. Plenty of time. I managed to get the zipper halfway down before he took over and pulled them over my knees, and then distraction drove his hand straight to my panties. My breath caught with anticipation. His hand cupped me, pressing, making me squirm. “Will.” He kissed me again, this time hungry and deep.

Then, suddenly, he was gone and the air rushed between us, cooling my scorched skin. I opened my heavy eyelids and blinked, feeling woozy and unbalanced. He stood back from me, dragging shaky fingers through his hair and letting out a disturbed huff.

“Charlie …” He paused, struggling with the words. “Do you still love me?”

My heart continued pounding, and I still felt his hands and mouth everywhere. I shook my head, trying to clear the sex-induced fog from my brain.

When I didn’t answer, he stepped back more, looking confused, as though I should have fallen down at his feet and confessed my undying adulation. “No. I don’t want you like this,” he said, “not like this.”

Understanding dawned just before the humiliation took over. Bitter cold swept through me, extinguishing any stubborn flames. “Like what, Will? I’m standing here with my pants down around my ankles and you’re just going to walk away because I’m not going to say I love you?” Still trembling, I jerked my pants over my hips, feeling the pressure of tears rise to my eyes. “Go to hell.”