The purple sheets had fallen to his waist. Her gaze took in each defined pec, his toasty-golden skin sprinkled with dark hair, leading down his flat, hard abs and disappearing from her sight. But she already knew what lay beneath the sheets. She'd touched him. Tasted him. Bitten him. Licked him. Rediscovered every glorious inch with a greed that still surprised her.
Dear God, what had they done?
She stumbled toward the window. Nerves shredded, on the verge of a panic attack, she tugged at the sash until it opened up halfway with a pop. She leaned over and sucked in a great lungful of cool air, pressing her palms flat to the glass pane.
The terrible truth twisted and writhed inside the darkest of places inside, wailing to finally escape.
Becca.
She moaned, and the memories attacked her like vicious ghosts in a haunted house.
She'd been able to deal with all the challenges of being a single mother because she was the one responsible for Becca's happiness, and that was her only goal in life.
But now everything had changed.
Because Tristan was in her bed, and in her life.
And the truth was finally going to come out.
She dropped her face into her hands. Maybe she could push him away. Pretend it was only about sex. Maybe it wasn't too late to backtrack and try to get back to the way things had been between them.
Because if she couldn't, she was going to have to tell him the truth.
It had been easier when he kept her at a distance. When he refused to talk to Becca. When he was the same cold man who'd made love to her and left without a glance back. Those reasons drove her forward, reassuring her she had made the best decision for all of them.
But now he was talking about second chances. Sending her daughter flowers. Trying to embrace the woman she'd become, not the young girl she'd been.
Sydney prayed for strength to weather what was ahead for all of them.
Tristan woke up to the scent of eggs and bacon.
He rolled over, confirming her empty space in the bed. He mourned the chance to have woken her up properly this morning, but breakfast came in a close second. If his plans held, he'd have plenty of opportunities to seduce Sydney and watch her gorgeous face in the sunlight as he brought her to climax.
Groaning, he headed to the bathroom with his morning wood and took a quick cold shower. He wrapped a towel around his hips, wondering how he was going to handle going home in a shirt with no buttons. Talk about the walk of shame. Or as his brothers would term it, the walk of fame.
"Morning."
She whipped around. Damn, she was hot. Dressed in a faded gray Adam Levine T-shirt and tight Lycra bike shorts that cupped her glorious ass, she sported bare feet and wild, unbrushed hair. Oversize black-framed glasses perched on her nose, giving her the slightly sexy nerd look men found so intriguing.
He waited for her reaction, not knowing if he'd get shyness, distance, or panic. When she smiled at him slow and sweet, his knees almost buckled.
Oh, yeah. She still held witchlike power over him.
"Morning. Becca should be home in an hour. I made bacon omelets and wheat toast." She filled a mug with steaming brew and handed him his coffee. "I'm sorry about the shirt. I found some safety pins. Maybe if you button your jacket, it won't be so noticeable."
He slid onto a stool, still clad in only a towel, and stared at the perfect plate she put in front of him. "I'm not sorry at all. But I'll take the apology if I get a breakfast like this. I think I died and reached heaven."
She grinned. "You don't ask for much in the afterlife."
"Maybe just you naked, and then I'm good."
She sipped her coffee, regarding him above the rim of her mug. "Figured you would have had your fill last night. I think we slept a whole hour."
"One hour too much." He forked up a bite and moaned in happiness. "So good. Okay, I'm ready. Let's do this."
"Don't you want to finish your breakfast before a morning quickie?"
"Was talking about the morning-after discussion. I'm sure you have plenty of questions and would like an in-depth analysis of what is going to happen between us now that we've had carnal relations."
"Fancy words for a fancy guy."
"I try."
"Thanks anyway, but I'm good."
His fork clattered to the plate. "Huh?"
She shrugged and sipped more coffee. "I'm good. No need to freak out over a night of great sex. I say we acknowledge it and move on."
He gazed at her with suspicion. He should've known she'd throw him off. Sydney never did what was expected, and the moment he caught up, she was already ahead with a new curveball. "You're accepting that we're getting involved in a relationship?"
She blinked. "Of course we have a relationship. We work together, and I've known you for years. But last night was about sex. Now that we've satisfied ourselves we can move forward and concentrate on work. Not all that sexual tension. Don't you agree?"