Cassienne’s voice broke the quiet night. It was soft but full of hurt. “Why?” she asked. Her eyes searched his face in the dim light of the bedroom. She lay there on the bed, her body half-covered by the thick sheet.
Dreston turned fast. His heart raced as he strode toward her. But he stopped halfway across the room. His feet felt heavy, like they were stuck to the floor. He couldn’t go closer. Not yet. Their eyes locked tight. Hers were wide open now, clear and full of pain. No sleep in them anymore. She looked right into
his soul.
“Why do you hate me so much?” she whispered. Her words hit him like a punch. Tears welled up in her eyes, making them shine. She sat up a little, the sheet slipping down her stomach. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Hurt poured out of her.
Dreston stood frozen. His mouth opened, but no words came. His mind spun. Was this real? Or was she still caught in some dream? Or was he the one dreaming? He couldn’t tell right now because, everything
doesn’t look real to him.
The last he remembered, he had left her in that club with her friends. His own heart twisted. He didn’t
hate her. Never had.
She waited, her gaze pleading. When he said nothing, her face fell. A single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away, but more followed.
“Come here,” she said. Her voice was gentle, inviting. Her hand patted the edge of the bed. Right where he had sat before, watching her sleep.
Dreston didn’t move. His body tensed. Every muscle screamed to stay put. This was tricky, and reckless. One wrong step, and it could all go bad.
She might wake up tomorrow and regret it. Blame him. Yell at him for taking advantage of her. He also wants this. But he rooted himself to the spot, hands clenched at his sides.
If she wasn’t drunk, if her mind was clear, maybe he would go to her. Hold her. But like this? No. He
couldn’t risk it.
Cassienne saw he wouldn’t budge. Her brows furrowed in frustration. Then, with a deep breath, she kicked the covers off her legs. The sheet fell away, leaving her in just her thin underwear. The fabric clung to her curves, soft and revealing.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Her bare feet touched the cool floor. She walked straight to him, slow with deliberate steps. Her hips swayed a little, it was natural and tempting.
Dreston watched, his pulse thumping hard in his ears. She stopped inches from him. Close enough to feel her warmth. Her hungry eyes searched his. What did she see there? His conflict? His want? Her hands rose slowly. Soft fingers touched his face. Her thumb stroked his jaw, gentle circles that sent sparks through his skin.
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He stiffened. His whole body went rigid. Heat rushed south, his cock twitching in his pants. He wasn’t expecting her to touch him that way.
They’ve never been this close before. Never. It had been years of nothing but cold words and distance. Now, her skin on his felt like fire. Good fire. His breath hitched. He wanted to pull away, but his body betrayed him. Stayed still, soaking it in.
Her other hand took his. She guided it to her waist. The curve of her hip under his palm. Her skin was soft and warm. Instinct kicked in. His free hand moved on its own, wrapping around her waist. He pulled her close. Their bodies pressed together. Her breasts against his chest, soft through the thin bra. Her heat seeped into him.
Cassienne gasped. A small sound, full of surprise and need. Heat built inside her, it was low and aching. Her pussy throbbed. She wanted his hands and mouth on her, even if it was just once. God, she needed him. The divorce left her empty and lonely.
Nights alone, thinking about him. Now, here he was. Real and close. She pressed closer, her nipples hardening against him.
Dreston closed his eyes for a beat. The world spun. When he opened them, fire burned in his gaze. His hand shot to the back of her head. Fingers tangled in her hair. He tilted her face up. Forced her to meet
his eyes.

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