Michael’s POV:
Michael had faced billion-dollar negotiations with calmer nerves than this.
He stood outside the kitchen door, coffee cooling in his hand, watching sunlight crawl across the polished floors. The house was awake now, quiet, but alive. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the whisper of the wind slipping through the patio doors. Everything felt too normal, and he hated it.
Last night replayed behind his eyes in brutal clarity.
Andrea’s laughter. The way her lips had parted mid-breath.
The way he’d almost… almost… lost control completely.
Michael exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose. You’re a damn fool, he told himself. He hadn’t planned any of it, the teasing, the dare, the way the tension had exploded between them. But once it happened, there had b
