Connor hauled himself out of bed, a curse escaping his lips as reality hit him.
He glanced back at Jody's form beneath the thin sheet, her naked body barely concealed, her breathing still deep with sleep.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd come with clear intentions—to end things cleanly. Yet the moment he saw her, felt her skin against his, tasted her lips—he'd surrendered. Always did. She was his weakness, like an addiction he couldn't shake.
Eleven months. The thought struck him suddenly. Almost a year with the same woman—a personal record he'd never intended to set.
He should have walked away months ago. Connor had always known this day would come, had always understood the responsibilities waiting for him. He just hadn't expected his father's heart attack to force his hand so quickly.
