For one crazy second, with her lips just inches
from his, he thought she might kiss him. If she did,
he knew it would not be a loving, gentle kiss, but a
punishing reminder of all he’d left behind. Inside, he
wrestled for a response. The plan was to fulfill step
nine: Make direct amends to people we harmed
wherever possible. Ben could feel the gentle heat of
her breath against his face. His plan clearly needed
to be amended, if not abandoned completely, or he
was going to lose control. He would not be able to
resist much longer…God, how he wanted her.
She pulled back before he broke.
Shit. Shit.
She sauntered to her couch and sat, bending a
knee beneath her. She tasted her wine, watching
him like she understood his need to escape. Ben
could sense the web about him—a carefully planned
trap.
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