Chapter Thirty-Three

Hunter’s POV

She stared up at me, conflict clear in her eyes. “We can’t... I should.”

“But?”

“But I don’t want to.” The admission seemed torn from her, painful and liberating at once.

Those few words made my control snap. I kissed her again, harder, more demanding. My hand moved beneath her bra, finding her breast, thumb brushing across the nipple. She gasped, arching into my touch. I wanted to feel all of her, taste her, lose myself in her.

I shifted, trailing kisses down her throat, across her collarbone. Her hands clutched at my back, her breathing ragged. When I moved to unbutton her blouse, she didn’t stop me. One button, then another, revealing more skin, more lace.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured against her skin. “So goddamn beautiful.”

I pushed the fabric aside, my mouth finding the swell of her breast above her bra. She moaned, her body trembling beneath mine. I reached behind her, unhooking the lace barrier with practiced ease, exposing her completely.

Time blurred as I lost myself in her—the taste of her skin, the sounds she made, the way she moved against me. My hand slid down her side, finding the hem of her skirt, pushing it higher. When my fingers brushed the inside of her smooth, bare thigh, she gasped, her eyes flying open.

“Hunter, wait—”

But I was beyond waiting, beyond reason. She hadn’t said stop—just wait... which I couldn’t. I needed to feel her. I touched her through the silk of her underwear, feeling the heat of her, the dampness. She was wet... for me. Her eyes fluttered closed, a whimper escaping her lips.

“Let me,” I whispered, my mouth against her ear. “Let me make you feel good.” I wanted to make her lose her mind.

Her answer was to kiss me, hungry and desperate.

I took it as a yes, slipping my hand beneath the silk, finding her wet and ready. She cried out when I touched her, her body arching in response. Pushing against mine.

I moved slowly at first, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan. Her clit was hard, and when I circled the little nub, she would gasp. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging in through my shirt. Fuck, she was like fire in my arms. I watched her face as I touched her, memorizing her every expression, every reaction.

“Hunter,” she breathed, her voice breaking. “I can’t—I need…”

“Yes, you can,” I urged, increasing the pressure, the pace. “Let go, Grace. Let go for me. Come for me.”

Her body tensed, trembling on the edge. I bent to take her nipple in my mouth, and that was all it took—she came apart beneath me, my name a broken cry on her lips, her body arching off the couch.

I gentled my touch, helping her ride through it, pressing kisses to her throat, her jaw, her lips. When she finally stilled, eyes closed, breathing ragged, I felt a surge of something beyond desire.

Then her eyes opened, and I watched reality crash back into them.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, horror replacing pleasure. “What have we done?”

She pushed at my chest, moving to sit up, pulling her blouse closed and pushing her skirt down to cover herself. I moved back, giving her space, my own mind clearing as desire receded.

“Grace—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, brittle. “This was a mistake. A terrible mistake.”

She stood, fingers fumbling with her buttons, face flushed with shame now rather than passion. “I’m your wife’s sister. I’m your employee. This—this can never happen again.”

Each word was a knife, cutting deeper because I knew she was right. What had I been thinking? What had I done?

“I know,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“We shouldn’t have,” she corrected, backing away. “This isn’t just on you. I’m equally to blame.” Tears filled her eyes. “God, this is so bad on so many levels. Helena...”

The mention of my wife’s name was like cold water. Helena. My wife. What kind of man was I? This was what I had been worried about... becoming this person. Someone who would cheat on his wife.

Grace grabbed her papers, clutching them to her chest like armor. “I need to go. I can’t be here right now.”

“Grace, wait. We should talk about this.” I can’t leave her like this. I could see she was beating herself up over what had just happened.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her voice cracked. “This never happened. We never speak of it again. We can’t... I can’t.”

Before I could respond, she was gone, disappearing through the connecting door to her room. I heard the lock click, final, leaving behind dead silence.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire, my mind a storm of guilt and confusion. What had I done? What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I moved to the door, raising my hand to knock, then letting it fall. What could I possibly say? What words could make this right?

There were none. I can’t make this right.

I turned away, catching sight of my reflection in the window… rumpled shirt, mussed hair, the clear evidence of my shame written across my face. Outside, the city of Chicago, oblivious to the lines we’d just crossed, the trust we’d just broken.

There would be no going back from this. For either of us.

Grace’s POV

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, back against the cold wood, and covered my mouth to muffle the sob that tore from my throat.

What had I done?

My body still hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure, my skin sensitive where Hunter had touched me, kissed me. I could still feel his hands, his mouth, still taste him on my lips.

I’d never meant for this to happen. Never meant to cross that line. All these years of careful distance, of buried feelings, of doing the right thing—undone in a moment of weakness.

“Stupid,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around my knees. “So stupid.”

The worst part wasn’t what we’d done—though God knows that was bad enough. The worst part was that even now, shaking with guilt and shame, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it completely. Couldn’t stop my treacherous body from remembering how it felt to have Hunter’s hands on me, his weight pressing me into the couch, his voice rough with desire in my ear.

I’d wanted him for so long. Loved him from a distance for years. And now that I knew what it was like to be touched by him, to be wanted by him… how was I supposed to go back? How was I supposed to pretend it never happened?

I had to.

A fresh wave of tears came, hot and bitter. I wasn’t just Helena’s sister anymore. I was the other woman. The cliché. The betrayer.

Hunter was married. To my sister. There were no circumstances, no justifications, no explanations that could make what we’d done okay.

And yet... He hadn’t been thinking of Helena when he had his body pressed down on mine. It had been so... felt so—

“Stop it,” I told myself harshly. “Just stop.”