Moonlight on Nightingale Way

No man alive loves a woman as much as I love you. I never thought I would feel this way about anyone. I didn’t think it existed. Not for me.

There are moments in life that change us irreparably. Sometimes those moments are grand and dramatic, tragic or beautiful in their intensity. Sometimes those moments are quiet and small like footsteps fading behind a closed door. The subtlety of those moments can sometimes camouflage their impact and sometimes the impact is felt profoundly, but the quietness of the moment is lost on everyone else around you adding loneliness to the equation.

Taking in their expressions, I just knew it. Logan had enlisted them. The bugger. “Oh dear God.” I let my head fall back as if in supplication to an unmerciful deity. “Why me?” Joss snorted. “Yeah, doesn’t it suck when gorgeous, funny, loyal Scotsmen fall in love with us?

We’ll vote,” Maia said. “And I promise not to vote for a chick flick. They’re crap anyway. It’s always about two idiots who apparently don’t understand the art of communication.

I told you I don’t do casual sex.” He sat up, too, now. “Grace, there is nothing fucking casual about how I feel about you.

Grace.” His head dipped toward mine. “Tell me to leave.” “No,” I whispered back, relaxing into the wall, and he melted into me with a groan. “I want you to stay.” He looked into my eyes as if searching for the answer to something. “If I stay I’m going to fuck you.” I trembled in reaction to his bluntness and licked my lips before I moved my feet, widening my legs so he could fit just right between them. His eyes flared at the movement, and I reached up so our lips brushed as I whispered. “I’m counting on it.

You are so fucking sexy.” He peppered kisses along my jaw … “The things I’m going to do to you, babe. I’m going to make you mine, every single piece of you.” Our eyes locked, his filled with sexual promise. “No holds barred, Grace. Not with me. I’m going to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re going to let me.” … His voice lowered and he leaned down to brush his mouth softly over mine. “But right now I’m going to make love to you.

This”—she patted the arm of the supermodel behind her—“is my fiancé, Cole.” “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and I noted the leather bracelets and aviator watch he was wearing, along with the chunky silver ring on his middle finger. He was that guy. Cool, tattooed, can-pull-off-man-jewelry guy. I tried not to blush and failed as I shook his hand.

There are moments in life that change us irreparably. Sometimes those moments are grand and dramatic, tragic or beautiful in their intensity. Sometimes those moments are quiet and small, like footsteps fading behind a closed door. The subtlety of those moments can sometimes camouflage their impact. And sometimes the impact is felt profoundly, but the quietness of the moment is lost on everyone else around you, adding loneliness to the equation.

I almost blushed, he was that good-looking. No one should be that good-looking.

Friends want to know everything about you, and I couldn’t tell them about Maryanne or bring them back to the flat to hang out. It was just easier to be a loner than to deal with the questions.