She’d been a bit on the skinny side as a teen, though still striking enough to star in all of his fantasies. Now she was—
Fuck.
She was more riveting than anything he’d ever known. And the constant, fiery yearning for her that had roared through his veins for longer than he could remember was just as bright and searing tonight. More so, he couldn’t deny. Because they weren’t eighteen-year-olds exploring mutual attraction and trying to sate raging hormones.
This was something altogether different. The heat flaring in Jewel’s eyes as she feasted on him while cresting the last step told Vin the magnetism was just as strong on her end. Whether she wanted it to be or not.
Truly the bane of her existence as much as his.
Knowing how to keep the upper hand, his grin turned cocky. He said, “My fantasy woman come to life. Aren’t I suddenly the lucky bastard?”
Jewel was the epitome of the one who got away. His fault as much as it was hers, which had left them at an impasse years ago. Something that ate at him like a piranha trying to consume his very soul.
Her gaze flitted from him to the second-floor mezzanine and then back.
Vin fought a scowl. He suspected Holly stood there, likely using a compact from her handbag to apply a fresh coat of lipstick after giving him a stellar blow job on the private terrace adjacent to his office.
A hint of betrayal crept in on him. Not because he and Holly actually had “started the party” without Rogen—she’d been quite the eager beaver.
No, this particular tension was wrapped wholly around Jewel. But Vin reminded himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about when it came to being with another woman. Holly, in this case. He and Jewel weren’t a couple. Hadn’t been for some time.
Yet the slight watering of her eyes as her gaze held his—and several strides separated them—made his gut twist.
“Jewel—” His teeth ground. What the fuck was he supposed to say to her?
They’d always been the equivalent of two ships passing in the night. Potentially destined for something great, but always hindered by circumstance. Her endless love for Rogen. Her decision to live in San Francisco rather than River Cross. Her anger toward Vin, which she obviously had not let go of.
She didn’t give him the chance to discern how he was supposed to mend the fence—if that was even possible. She stepped closer, raised her hand, and slapped him soundly across the face.
No lie, it stung like hell.
But as Vin hastily recovered, he realized if she’d hurt him, she’d hurt herself tenfold.
“Jesus,” he whispered, and reached for her hand.
Tears flooded her eyes.
“Jewel. Shit,” he hissed out.
He held her hand gently in both of his, her palm engulfed by his larger ones as she visibly reeled. Tried to pull in a full breath. Trembled from head to toe.
“That was stupid,” he scolded in a low tone so that only she heard.
“Asshole,” came her quiet retort.
His jaw tightened a moment. Then Vin said, “Yes. But always for a reason.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and tenderly kissed her reddened flesh.
It looked as though she still couldn’t catch her breath. She stared at him, clearly taken by surprise. And … touched … if the softening of her expression was any indication.
One corner of his mouth jerked up. “I always did like your feisty spirit.”
She was at a loss for words as their gazes held. Then she came around. A bit too jarringly.
“Don’t suddenly pl
ay nice, Vin.” She yanked her hand from his. “I’ve wasted more time trying to figure out your game than I care to admit. It’s just not worth it.”
She whirled around and stalked off, making her way so quickly down the stairs that Vin’s body went on high alert in preparation for having to rescue her from a horrific Scarlett O’Hara fall. But she made it safely to the foyer and continued on her way, out of his sight.