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Excerpt

My peace and quiet vanish when his door opens, and I come to an abrupt stop, not knowing how to act. I must have done something wrong for karma to come at me full force. Why did it have to be his floor I ended up on? This building is freaking huge. It was one reason I moved here, for the anonymity, only to end up being neighbors with an NFL star. Oh, the irony.

Ian stiffens. Eyes narrowing, a muscle in his jaw tics. Regardless, he looks mouthwatering. Jeans mold to his thick thighs. The T-shirt does little to hide his well-muscled frame, hugging his broad shoulders and trimmed waist. There’s nothing casual about the drool gathering in my mouth at the sight of him, though.

Thank god for small mercies, because as soon as I see the duffel bag, I remember he’s a football player and surely heading to practice with my dad. The reminder swiftly douses the desire.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s nothing like the guy who looked at you as if you were the most beautiful girl, now looking at you as if you’re something unpleasant. I didn’t change that much, did I? It’s been four years, not fifty. And screw him.

“Morning,” I say with a cheer, forcing my lips into a big smile.

“Morning,” he grumbles.

We move to the elevator, waiting in stilted silence. The tension rises around us. It’s a wonder neither of us chokes on the heavy air.

I sense him watching me and I jab my finger on the button, urging the elevator to hurry. Come on, already.

“It won’t get here sooner, even with your assault.” That deep voice of his ending on a husky note has butterflies flapping their wings against my ribcage.

From the corner of my eye, I watch him. His features seem even sharper than before—angular nose, high cheekbones, and cut jaw. He has those thick, curled lashes all girls want. Even his brows have the perfect arched form, as if his features are painted to add a touch of ruggedness to his handsome face. No physical flaws. I remember vividly digging my nails into that tight ass as he fucked me into another dimension. From top to bottom and from bottom to top, Ian is the embodiment of physical perfection.

“Take a good look. We don’t want you to strain your neck,” he says smugly.

I open then close my mouth, feeling my cheeks warm. Thankfully, the elevator doors open, and I dash inside with my nose stuck up. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I conjured him that night. The guy in front of me is not sweet. He’s arrogant and calling out my weakness.

We both go to press the button and a zap shoots through me, awakening my senses from their comatose existence. No, you indulged once. That’s enough. But not a cell in me seems to agree.

He smells so good—a heady blend of bergamot and something woodsy and clean. That scent could put the entire female population on their backs. I take another sniff. I must inhale, right? It’s biology and I can’t hold my breath for longer than thirty seconds. It’s earthy and masculine. The type of smell that’s not too much, just enough to want to smell it on repeat.

I catch him glancing at the side of my face.

Emboldened by that, I sass. “Take a pic. It will last longer.”



He arches a thick brow, seemingly unimpressed. “I expected something more original.”

Before I can reply, he plucks out his phone and takes a photo of me.

He puts it in my face, showing the not-so-flattering pic of me looking like a blotched fish gasping for air. Awesome.

Reaching the lobby, the elevator doors slide open, and he gestures for me to go out first. The gentlemanly gesture reminds me of that night. Cursed to relive that time as the highlight of my romantic life.

“Such a gentleman,” I mumble, full on petty that he forgot about me.

His eyes twitch, and I almost believe he remembers me and our night together. I thought we shared something special. I guess I was wrong.

Outside, a heat wave rolls over my skin, the end of summer bringing with it the hottest days.

I watch him going to a black Range Rover, looking like a dark beast on wheels. Of course mine is parked next to his. My Mini looks like a car toy in comparison.

When I open my door, I catch the intention of a smile on his handsome face.

“What? I don’t need to overcompensate for anything.”

He pats his chest in faux offense, winking at me. “Oh, Lilly, we both know I don’t need to either.”

Suddenly, I feel hot. The sexual innuendo goes straight between my thighs, creating an ache.

He climbs in and takes off, leaving me dumbfounded. So, he remembers. The dick. Maybe I hurt him the way I left, with no explanation. I was so sure it was just a stolen moment, and we’d go our separate ways that I didn’t consider his perspective. A one-night stand isn’t supposed to be life-changing. One time with someone is not meant to mean more, right?

Wrong. Four years later, my past just crashed into my present, causing a tectonic shift, leaving me despondent.

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About the Author

Bianca Borell is a contemporary romance author, voracious reader, nature lover, and unapologetic daydreamer. She spends her nights deciding between getting up to write or trying to silence the voices of her characters. The battle is never-ending.

She has a weakness for tormented characters, second chances, and happy endings.

She currently lives in Germany with her amazing husband and indulges in way too many pastries than she should.