Romancing the Bachelor (A Hamilton Family 2)

“Neither am I.”

The urge to slam her foot down was there, and so strong, but she held it at bay. “Then why—?”

“This isn’t easy for me, either, okay?” He let out a sigh. “I’ve never turned down a woman before, especially one I wanted so damn much that I’ll be up with a fucking hard cock all night long because I walked away from her.”

She licked her lips, her gaze drifting south at his words.

God help her, she saw the evidence of his…er, problem…already.

He was huge and hard, and he was supposed to be hers, but he was too busy being all admirable and crap. Any other day, any other guy, and she’d think he was making the right choice, and even applaud him for it. But not now, when the frustration he’d awoken in her was so strong it threatened to rip her in half. “Then don’t walk away.”

“I have to.” He opened the door and went into the hallway. He turned around, tugged on his tie, and offered her a hesitant smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, she slammed the door in his face.

He was so good, so honorable, and she wanted to kill him right now.

“Good night, Shel,” he called out, amusement in his voice.

She flipped off the door, and walked away, her entire body trembling, wanting, and empty…and it was all Eric Hamilton’s fault.

Chapter Nine

Eric stood outside her door the next morning, his head foggy and his eyes even more bleary than when he’d “woken” up this morning. He’d sleeplessly tossed and turned until his alarm had gone off, cursing himself out for being a goddamned gentleman. All night long, his cock had throbbed, begging for the release only she could give him, and nothing—not even his own hand and a cold shower—could ease the ache that refusing her request had left behind.

He wanted her, and he’d probably blown his only shot at having her. That was the real kicker. He’d done the right thing; he had no doubt about that. If he’d kissed her last night like she’d asked, it would have destroyed their friendship, and he wasn’t willing to risk that. He wanted her in his life, and if the only way he got to keep her there was by keeping his damn hands to himself, so be it. It might kill him, but he’d keep his fucking hands to himself.

Even when she drank too much and asked him not to.

The door cracked open, and she peeked into the hallway. When she saw him, her cheeks flushed, and the door started to shut again. But then she stiffened, shook her head, and opened it more. As she stepped into the hallway, he scanned over her, taking in every detail. She wore a skirt that fell below her knees, and a light gray blouse that had a bow on the shoulder. Her hair was swept into a loose bun, and she wore minimal makeup.

She looked absolutely fucking beautiful.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, forcing a smile that was faker than the spray tan his boss, Donald, had come into work with yesterday morning. “How are you?”

His lips twitched at her loud voice and even louder enthusiasm. “Good. A little tired, but otherwise fine. Coffee?”

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. “You know you don’t have to bring me coffee every morning to get me to talk to you, right?”

“I do know that.” He shrugged and headed for the elevator, keeping his word to himself not to bring up the whole kiss thing unless she brought it up first, which she clearly didn’t want to. “But I go get coffee, anyway, so I figured why not get some for my friend?”

She half laughed. “Right.” She walked into the elevator the second it opened and went to the farthest corner. “Do you have a busy day today?”

“A few cases and a couple of meetings. Nothing too crazy.” He rubbed his shoulder, staring at the numbers as they climbed down from the sixth floor. “Then I’m headed to the SPCA after work.”

That got her attention. “What? Why?”

“I’ve been looking for a dog, now that I’m making junior partner. I’ve met with a few builders about my house, and where I’d like it, so I figured if I find the perfect dog before it’s ready, we’ll just tough it out here in the apartment building until he gets his big yard.”

The doors opened, and she walked out of the elevator. He held the doors open, just in case, and then followed her. “What’s your perfect dog?”

“I don’t really have a breed preference, so to speak, but I want a dog that’s suffered.”

A surprised laugh escaped her. “That’s kind of morbid.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He opened the front door for her then placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her toward his car. “But—”

She dug her heels in. “I can take the bus. You don’t have to drive me.”