Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(69)

But there was a very big, very real part of me that worried this would change things between us. What if he was uncomfortable or mad and went back on his deal to let me see Rosalee? That was the one thing I couldn’t risk. Yet there I was, staring at my phone, waiting on pins and needles, nerves rolling in my stomach for judgment day.



Me: Please. I’m begging you. Put me out of my misery here.

Me: If you’re mad, I’ll totally understand. We can talk about it. I can explain. Just don’t take Rosalee away from me.



The more I typed, the more frantic I became, the possibility of losing her sinking in until it felt like a foregone conclusion.



Me: Caven, please. I take it back. I take all of it back. I’m sorry. Please just say something.



My head snapped up when there was a knock at my door. It was past eleven and my elderly neighbors never braved the night.

It was him.

I could feel the hum in my veins.

Damn that fucking hum.

Steeling myself for the absolute worst, I stood up, and crossed the room, and while holding my breath, I opened the door.

It was the most disheveled I’d ever seen Caven. His button-down was untucked, his sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through the top of it.

None of this made me feel any better.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, because what the hell else was there to say?

Silently, he stared at me, his gaze heavy and his jaw hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he licked his lips. “You should not have kissed me that night in the bathroom.”

I wrung my hands in front of me. “I know. I know. I know. And I—”

In a low gruff voice, he rumbled, “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

My shock or relief didn’t have time to register before he took a long step forward, his arm hooking around my hips. Dragging me against his chest, he crashed his mouth down on mine, hard and punishing, filled with all the desperation of a starving man.

Chills exploded on my skin as the start of every sexual fantasy I’d ever had played out in front of me.

It was Caven.

Caven Lowe.

Caven Hunt.

It didn’t matter.

It was just Caven, his mouth opening, his tongue sweeping with mine, his strong arms holding me tight against his chest. His heart pounded out a sweet and devastating harmony to my own.

Slanting his head, he took the kiss deeper, our lips sealing like puzzle pieces clicking into place. He tasted like nothing and everything at the same time, my senses too overwhelmed with the fact that he was there to concentrate on any one thing.

Not his velvety tongue tangling with mine, seeking control as he swallowed my surrender.

Not his hand sliding down my ass, my skin catching fire as he palmed one cheek, grinding me against his thickening cock.

Not the way his other hand gripped the back of my neck, his fingers biting into my flesh as he ravaged my mouth.

“Fuck,” he murmured, lifting me off my feet, my legs dangling as he carried me inside my house and kicked the door shut. He turned, setting me down while pinning me against the wall with his strong body. Nipping at my lips, he growled, “Tell me to stop.”

I laved my tongue over his bottom lip. “I promised I’d never come up for air.”

He pulled his head back to catch my gaze, blue flames burning in his eyes.

That should have been the moment I told him the truth.

That should have been the moment I spilled three months of secrets and lies.

That should have been the moment I threw on the brakes, confessed to eighteen years of loving him, and made him understand why I’d done all the things I had.

But I’d spent every agonizing second of those eighteen years wanting him.

Longing for him.

Dreaming of that moment.

My life was lived in the seconds.

And in that second, I wanted to touch every inch of Caven Hunt while he touched every inch of me.

“Please, Caven,” I whispered.

And that was all it took.





CAVEN


It was the worst idea I’d ever had.

After reading her texts, I’d sworn to myself that I would never let something happen between the two of us.

I’d continued swearing it to myself as I’d paced my living room while I waited on Alejandra to show up to keep Rosalee.

I’d sworn it again as I’d pocketed two condoms before leaving my house.

And I’d sworn it every minute of the drive to her place, the thought of her naked body writhing beneath mine making my foot heavy on the accelerator.

I’d known that those texts weren’t for me, and I’d resigned myself to a cold shower and fisting my cock as they kept rolling in.

But then she’d typed it. The one thing that had me rethinking my entire fucking life.

I swore to my entire family that I’d live my life in the seconds. I’m not letting another one pass me by.

I didn’t know why I felt the way I did about her. It sure as shit wasn’t the way I’d felt the first time we’d spent the night together. I could have said that it was because we shared a child now and, most recently, I’d found out we shared a pained past at that mall as well. But it was more than that. I felt a pull to her that I couldn’t explain any more than I could extinguish it.