They’d done it in this very room.

A reckless thing to do with the party going on nearby…a party her husband was attending. That night wasn’t the first time they’d snuck around together. Several years ago, Cael’s father had sent him to smooth over a conflict with Senator McKinley, to figure out what he wanted in order to change his mind about some policy up for vote. Cael hadn’t meant to get close to his wife in the process, but Eleanor was obviously the brains behind their operation.

One thing led to another. And another. And another. At least until the party last year where she’d cut him off.

Cael cleared his throat. “You made your thoughts about me pretty fucking clear last time.”

“Cael.” She lifted her hand, but let it drop before making contact with his chest. “My husband had just been diagnosed with an incurable disease. I couldn’t leave him. Not then. Not like that. Not even for you.”

Fuck, but his chest ached. He stared down at her gorgeous face. For a year, Cael had done everything he could to purge the memory of their time together, but every little stolen moment with Eleanor was tattooed on the inside of his skull.

It always came rushing back when he least expected it. It fucking hurt. “You treated me like your little fuck toy that you played with until you got tired of me, and then you tossed me aside like yesterday’s trash.”

“No. It wasn’t like that.” She reached for him again.

He caught her wrist before she made contact. A mistake. Touching her again, even like this, was enough to snap what little control he had. Cael traced his thumb over the faint blue veins he could see beneath her skin. “Don’t lie to me, Eleanor. You can lie to them all you want.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the party. “But not me.”

Even though part of him wanted to keep the contact as long as possible, he made himself release her. It hurt too fucking much to touch her when he couldn’t have her. And he couldn’t. He knew what it would look like to the outside if people knew about them. The senator’s wife with the pristine reputation. The son of an Irish crime family. Messy didn’t begin to cover it.

“Condolences on the loss of your husband, Mrs. McKinley.” He took a step back and then another. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

*     *     *

Eleanor should have let him go. She shouldn’t have come here at all tonight, with even the smallest chance of running into Cael O’Malley again. But then, she never should have touched him in the first place.

Should wasn’t something that had ever applied to her and Cael.

“Wait.”