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She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, he did." She admits. "But Pete wasn't Gabe."

No, definitely not.

The bed is toobig without her. That's the first thing that hits me. Ridiculous. I've slept in this bed alone for years without a second thought. Never cared. Never noticed. Now?

Now it feels wrong.

I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the ceiling. Her smell still lingers, as does the scent of sex. Shit. That was the best sex of my life. But it's not just that. That would be easier. Easier to compartmentalize. To dismiss. To file away as chemistry and move on. This isn't just physical. It's the way she looks at me. Fights me. Pushes back when most people would fall in line. The way shefeelsin my arms, like she belongs there and hates it at the same time.

There's something between us. Something real. Something I don't fully understand yet, but I sure as hell recognize it for what it is. Dangerous and very, very addictive.

I shift, restless, and the sheets tangle around my legs. She's down the hall. One door. That's all that's between us. I could get up. Walk over. Take what I want. She'd fight me. Maybe.

Maybe not.

A low breath leaves me. No. I close my eyes briefly. That's not how this goes. Not with her. I gave her my word. I don't break that. Even when it's… inconvenient. Even when every instinct in me says otherwise.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair again.

She needs time. I get that. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Because this waiting? This is worse than any fight I've ever been in. At least there, I move. Act. End it.

This?

This is just sitting still, ignoring how everything in me is wired to go after what I want. And I want her. More with every passing hour. More with every look, every word, every damn second I spend around her. It's not slowing down. It's getting worse. A humorless huff escapes me. If I could skip time forward—a day, a week, a month—I would. In a heartbeat. Because right now? This is excruciating. Knowing she's here. Knowing she wants me too. And choosing not to cross that line. Yet.

My eyes open again, staring into the dark.

"Tomorrow," I murmur to myself.

It's not a question. It's a promise. Because I'll give her space. I'll give her time. But not forever.

I must have dozed off, because the next time I open my eyes, a few rays of sun are making their way in through where I left the curtains partially open. With a groan, I swing first one leg, then the other out of bed. Waking up with a boner is no fun when there is no woman to take care of it. And there is only one woman I want to take care of it. Unfortunately, I don't think she'd be up for it if I came knocking right now.

So I take matters into my own hands, so to speak, while showering, killing two birds with one stone. The problem is that after sampling her, my hand isn't just good enough. I'm already stiff again by the time I'm dressed.

Thank fuck the strong scent of coffee is distracting enough.

And there she is. Standing by the kitchen island, cup in hand, looking as beautiful as ever. Despite the dark cloud furrowing her brows.

"Good morning."

"I want to go see Kelly today."

Ah, no good morning back then. Fine. I walk past her, taking a long, surreptitious inhale of her sweet scent while doing so and making my way to the coffee maker. Espresso it is. Seems like I'm going to need it.

"Why?" I ask, while the grinder does its thing with the beans, filling the air with more coffee aroma.

She faces me, her brows still knitted, and I can see bad decisions and guilt written all over her features. "I owe her an explanation. I owe her the truth about her son's death."

I quirk an eyebrow. "And what would you tell her?"

There is no way in hell I'm letting her go right now, but I'm curious.

"The truth. That Pete dug into cartel business and got killed over it."

"So you're gonna tell her that her precious son's fingers littered the ground?" The words are harsh, but just the mention of Saint Pete makes me see red. Especially when his name comes out of her mouth, which should only be screaming mine.

She winces, blinks a few times. "That was… crude. But no. I just want her to know that he died quickly."