3. THE PULL

ROWANNE'S POV.

He was beautiful. God, dangerously beautiful. Jett was handsome, but Eli. He was different. I remembered the first time I saw him was at my wedding. He was different.

Then the smile faded. His eyes dropped to my hand. I realised what I was doing and jerked back. “Oh. I’m sorry—”

Eli caught my hand, placing it right back where it had been.

“My type?” he said, his voice lowered now, almost like a growl. His gaze trailed from my hand to my lips to the neckline of my dress. My skin burned everywhere his eyes touched.

“Blue eyes. Five foot seven. Smooth skin. Long. Wavy. Sandy blond hair. Red lips. Soft hands…”

My heart stopped. It was almost as if he wasn’t describing a type. He was describing me.

I forced a smile. “Quite detailed.”

Then I snatched up my glass, downing it too quickly, desperate to drown the heat rising in my chest. But even as the wine slid down my throat, his eyes never left me.

As I looked back at him, he was still staring. That gaze left me breathless with my chest rising and falling too quickly.

“Eli?” My voice cracked, almost a whisper.

His eyes dropped to my lips before finding mine again. “Yes, Ro.”

I swallowed, my pulse hammering. And then, almost like a pull, I couldn’t resist. I wrapped my hands around his neck, crushing my lips against his.

Shit. No.

He should’ve pushed me away. He should’ve reminded me that I was Jett’s wife. That I was still in mourning. That this was wrong.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand slid against my waist, dragging me closer until I was straddling him, my legs clinging to his body. The heat of him bled through his undone shirt, and the scent of wine mixed with his cologne. It was so dizzying.

My gasp was swallowed when his hands climbed my spine, fingers splaying, gripping me tighter, desperate like he had been starving and I was air.

“Eli,” I breathed against his mouth, trembling, “this is—”

“Wrong?” he rasped, his forehead pressing against mine, his lips brushing mine again. His blue eyes burned into me.

My heart slammed against my ribs as guilt and desire waged war inside me, but God help me. I didn’t move.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me there, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.

I kissed him again. Harder, this time. My tears wet his lips, but he kissed me like he didn’t care. Like he’d been waiting for this or for me.

And for one reckless and aching moment, I let myself believe it.

Oh, God. My pussy stung with the ache of want. The heat spread as I got wetter beneath the press of him. It was unbearable. The need to be touched, to be taken, to be used in the most reckless way.

Eli’s lips left mine only to trail higher, brushing across my cheek before settling at the shell of my ear. My body shivered at the husk of his breath there and a low groan vibrating from his chest into mine.

His hand slid up until he cupped my breast through the thin fabric of my blouse. My nipples tightened instantly against his palm, aching for more.

His fingers flexed, squeezing.

“Eli—” I gasped, but the word melted into a moan as his mouth moved to my neck. The way his teeth grazed my skin and his lips lingered at the hollow of my throat.

I threw my head back, arching into his touch, into his heat, and surrendering to it. His tongue traced the sensitive curve of my skin, setting fire in every nerve. And then I saw it.

The glint of gold at the edge of my vision. My ring. Jett’s ring. The one he had slipped on my finger. The one that should have been sacred.

Goosebumps erupted across my skin, cold and sharp, cutting through the haze of desire. My stomach lurched. What the fuck was I doing?

“Eli. Wait!” My voice cracked as I pushed against his chest, slipping out of his hold. My feet hit the floor almost unsteadily, but I forced myself back, putting space between us. His gaze stayed on me so damned searing as if they demanded answers I didn’t have.

“I—” I licked my lips, eyes darting anywhere but him. “I… I have to leave.” The words stumbled out shaky.

I snatched my bag and phone from the table with my shaky hands. I didn’t dare glance back, because I knew if I did, I’d fold, and the next step would be his bedroom.

“Thank you for the wine,” I forced out, my voice brittle, foreign even to me. And then I walked fast, though my legs almost betrayed me, heavy with everything I was leaving behind.

“Ro,” His voice followed me.

I didn’t look back. My focus was on the door, the only salvation I had left. My pulse hammered so hard it hurt as I yanked it open and slipped out, shutting it behind me like a shield.

“Wait, Rowanne.”

Hearing my full name in his mouth almost undid me. My heart clenched and my lungs stilled but I kept moving.

I rushed down the hall, my heels striking against the floor, the sound too loud in the silence. The elevator loomed ahead like a lifeline. I pressed the button with trembling fingers as my breath ragged. When the doors slid open, I nearly fell inside.

I froze. But then, I heard him. The door to his apartment opened behind me.

My body jolted, panic and longing collided. I stabbed the button again, watching the doors inch closed, achingly slow.

And then my gaze locked on his as Eli was walking toward me with each step burning straight through me. My chest rose and fell with the steps he took.

And then the doors sealed shut.

I exhaled, a heavy and shaking breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. My knees nearly buckled, my heart slamming like I had escaped something dangerous. When in truth, a part of me had wanted to be caught.

Two days later.

“Mrs Carter, your mother-in-law is around.”

The sound of Nana’s voice pulled me back to reality, shattering what I had been wrapped in. My fork clattered against the plate.

“What?” My throat went dry. “My mother-in-law? What is she doing here?”

Nana’s expression shifted uneasily, and her lips parted as if to explain, but nothing came out. That damned silence made my stomach twist.

I pushed back from the dining table, my pulse quickening. The only reason my body jolted with panic was Eli. My mind leapt back to that night, to his hands on me and my heart thrashed. Did he tell her?

The thought speared through me as I rose to my feet to see Jennifer Carter, Jett and Eli’s mother.

Facing her now felt like standing on the edge of a sinkhole, like she could see my sins before I even spoke.

I tried to breathe, but my chest was too tight. Did I regret it? No. That wasn’t what haunted me. I wasn’t drowning in regret. Because when I thought of Eli’s mouth on mine, the heat of his body against me. I didn’t feel sorry.

And that terrified me.

Because it was wrong. So wrong that the memory made my chest clench every time it flickered behind my eyes. Wrong, because the moment I spotted Jennifer Carter in my living room, I thought of him.

Was that some kind of test? A line I shouldn't cross and almost did, but I didn’t?

We hadn’t made love. I had stopped it. I had pulled away before we went too far. That was supposed to be enough to save me. Right?

Jennifer turned at the sound of my footsteps. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glistening from tears. Her composure frayed as soon as she saw me. She moved quickly until she was clutching my hands like a lifeline.

“Oh, Rowanne,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her other hand cupped my face and her thumb brushing along my cheek. “You didn’t have to go through any of this.”

I froze, my breath catching as confusion clawed up my throat. “Any of… what?”

Her tears split freely now. Her grip was trembling as she pulled back slightly, freeing one of my hands. She wiped at her cheeks, drawing in a shaking breath before she forced the words out.

“They are saying—” her voice cracked with disbelief. "The police say Jett’s death wasn’t a… wasn’t a casual accident.”

My stomach dropped, the floor tilting beneath me.

Jennifer’s lips trembled, her eyes searching mine. And then she gave a long pause before her mouth parted again.

“It was murder.” Her voice was a hollow whisper. “Someone murdered my son. Your husband.”