Forbidden Heir (The Heirs 8)

Slowly, I tighten my arm around her, keeping my mouth pressed to her silky strands.

Loving Danny is both the hardest and easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s like the air I breathe, a necessity. And it’s frustrating as fuck.

We’ve hugged before. Cheek kisses at Christmas and birthdays.

But I’ve never gotten to hold her like this, and it’s overwhelming. Getting a taste of the only thing I want in this life, knowing this might be it – all I’ll ever get – is gutting.

Fuck, I love her.

Feeling her body against mine. Hearing her soft breaths. It creates a sweet ache in me.

I wish we could live in an alternate universe where we’d meet as strangers. She’d fall in love with me, because let’s face it, I’m a good guy with a great sense of humor. I’d sweep her feet from under her.

I’d be the man who gets to make love to her.

I’d be the man to comfort her, her shoulder to rest her head on.

I’d be the man to change her last name.

I’d be the father of her children.

God. God. God. I want that dream so desperately.

My heart physically aches from knowing it will never happen.

Danny will never see me as anything more than Tristan’s best friend.

Moving my hand up under her hair until I reach her neck, I soak in the feel of her soft skin. Danny presses closer to me, making me freeze again. My heartbeat begins to speed up as she pulls her arm from where it’s between us, and she wraps it around my waist.

There’s a painful twinge in my chest.

I want more of this. So much more.

I savor every second. I drink it in like a man dying of thirst. Danny’s my mirage in the desert that’s my life.

Chapter 2

DANNY

Taking a seat on a plush couch, my eyes follow Ryker to the reception, where he’ll get our keycards and room numbers.

At least he got an international driver's license and rented a car so we can get around without having to be dependent on South African public transport, that’s apparently not trustworthy.

I’m still flustered from waking up glued against his chest, our arms wrapped around each other. Of course, I didn’t move a muscle, not wanting to wake him.

God, it felt so good being held by the man I love.

My eyes drift over his back, his trim waist, and his butt… damn, carved from steel.

Just remembering his arm tightening around me and his breath on my hair has my body warming until I’m pretty sure I’m close to reaching spontaneous-combustion level.

When he turns around and heads back to me, his steps are confident… filled with strength. I let out a needy sigh and get up as he reaches me.

“We’re sharing,” he states.

“What?” I blink at him like an idiot.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “The penthouse. It has two bedrooms so you can relax.”

“Oh… good,” I mutter as I take hold of my luggage handle. Pulling the bag behind me, I walk toward the elevator.

We’ll be staying at The Silo. It’s a five-star hotel built on top of Africa’s largest museum of contemporary art. It’s also situated in the heart of the waterfront, which I’m excited to explore at some point during our stay here.

When we walk into the suite, I glance around at the living and dining area. The view of the Atlantic Ocean is gorgeous.

“Is that Robben Island?” I ask.

“Yes. We can plan a day trip if you want to visit it,” Ryker says. He glances inside the bedrooms, then asks, “Which one do you want?”

I walk to the first one, saying, “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be doing much sleeping.”

“Just as well you slept on the plane.” Hearing the teasing note in his voice, I shoot him a glare before shutting the door behind me.

Taking black slacks, a white blouse, and underwear from my bag, I head to the luxurious bathroom. I run myself a bubble bath and soak a good ten minutes in the aromatic water.

In five days, we’re meeting with the board of Take3, South Africa’s largest eCommerce store. Either we’ll agree to a partnership, or we’ll have to start from scratch and become competition for them.

The latter means there will be a couple of trips from the states to South Africa in the future. Our foothold here will secure us the continent.

Climbing out of the tub. I dry myself and lather my body in lotion. I’ll visit the hotel’s hairdresser to get my hair taken care of because it’s the last thing I have the energy for now.

I tie the strands up in a ponytail, and once I’m dressed, I walk out into the shared living space.

“Ryker,” I call out.

“Yes, ma’am?” His muted answer comes from his bedroom. Hearing him call me ma’am makes my lips curve up.

Damn, it’s such a turn-on.