DANIEL'S POV

I sat in my office, city lights shining through the windows, my phone felt heavy in my hand. Sienna's text from that night kept bugging me. Fun? That's what she called her moans, her pussy wet for my tongue? My dick got hard, thinking of her curves, her laugh, the way she ran like she was ashamed or scared. I wasn't letting her go.

She had given me her name, Sienna Peterson, and her phone number at the restaurant. That was all I needed to find her. I gave my PI all her information to find her, and he had to be fast about it.

The PI was fast, he had checked the number in public records, looked at her social media, and found her freelance design jobs. By noon, he sent me a condo address in Coconut Grove, a small place, not like my fancy house. I stared at it; my chest tight. Why did she ditch me? Was it her age, my money, or something else? She was different, and I was stuck on her, even if I didn't know why she kept running.

I drove to her place that night, Miami's warm air sticking to my skin as I parked outside her building. The condo was little, with palm trees, out front, lights soft. I stood at her door, my fist ready, heart beating fast. What if she shut me out? What if she wasn't alone? My stomach flipped, picturing her with another guy, but I pushed it away. Screw it. I knocked, loud, the sound sharp in the quiet hall.

The door opened, and there she was. Her dark eyes got big, her lips open, paint stain on her cheek like she was working. Her tank top hugged her tits, her jeans tight on her hips, and my body burned, remembering her taste. Shock hit her face, her hand grabbing the door like she might slam it on my face.

"Let me in," I said, voice low, stepping closer.

She blinked, her jaw hard. "You stalking me now?" Her voice was sharp, but her eyes looked at my chest giving her away.

I grinned; eyes still locked on hers. "If finding you after you ditched me is stalking, I'll do it again."

Her cheeks turned red, and she crossed her arms. "Why are you here? I said we're done."

"Why'd you skip our date?" I walked in, slosing the door. Her condo smelled like a paint and coffee, small but cozy, not like my cold house. "You didn't show up at the restaurant, what's going on?"

"That text said why," she shot back.

I smirked. "Seems you aren't good at keeping promises".

She stepped back; her eyes tough. "I'm not your kind, Daniel. I am 42, and a divorcee who's got kids in college, so not your regular chick who is young, poised and good for your kind. Forget me, find someone else."

I laughed, soft, shaking my head. "You still don't get it, Sienna. I want to know you, all of you. All I ask is for you to give me a chance to worship you like you deserve to be worshipped." I touched her arm, my fingers were light, and her breath stopped, a spark hitting us. "Tell me you haven't thought about me. Tell me you forgot about that night, and I'll go."

Her lips shook, her eyes wet, like she was fighting inside. "I haven't thought about it because it was all a mistake and you need to move on."

"You're lying." I cupped her face, my thumb on her cheek, and kissed her, deep. Her lips opened, warm, her tongue meeting mine, needy. "Stop making me go crazy," I growled, my dick hard, pressing into her hip.

She moaned, her hands grabbing my shirt, but her eyes showed fear, like she wanted me but thought she shouldn't. "This is wrong," she whispered, her fingers tight on my back.

"It's not." I kissed her neck, sucking slow, my hands under her tank top, finding her tits, her nipples hard.

She gasped, her head back, her body saying yes while her mind said no. I pulled her top off, her bra next, my mouth found one of the boobs, licking the nipples, sucking till she whimpered. Her hands tore my shirt, buttons popping, and I grinned, loving her want.I pushed her to the couch, her jeans off fast, her pants wet when I touched her.

"Damn, you're ready," I muttered, sliding them off, my fingers rubbing her clit, slow.

She moaned loud, her legs opening, her hands in my hair. I kissed her thighs, my tongue tasting her, circling her clit till she shook.

"Come for me," I said, sucking hard, and she did, her body jerking, her moan loud.

She pulled me up, her hands on my belt, ripping it open.

"Now," she begged, her voice rough, her eyes still torn, like she knew it was a mistake but couldn't stop.

I pushed my pants down, no condom, my dick free. "You sure?" I asked, voice tight, wanting her bad.

"Yes," she gasped, pulling me close. I spread her legs, pushing inside, slow, her wetness tight around my dick, making me groan.

"You feel so good," I said, moving deeper, my hands on her hips. Her nails dug into my back, her legs around me, pulling me in.

"Harder," she moaned, her voice desperate, like she needed to feel something real. I pushed faster, deeper, my mouth on her boobs, sucking her nipples as she called my name. Her body shook, her orgasm hitting, her walls squeezing me. I came hard, groaning into her neck, my breath fast.

We laid there, breathing heavy, her body soft under mine. Her eyes were wet, her hand on my chest, like she was pushing me away and holding on.

"This can't keep happening," she whispered, her voice shaky, her fear clear.

I kissed her forehead, my arm around her. "It will, Sienna. I'm not leaving." My voice was strong, but my chest hurt, knowing she was fighting. I wanted her, everything about her, and I'd keep trying till she saw it.

For now, I held her, her warmth enough, but the question stayed: could I make her believe she was enough, or would she run again?

DANIEL'S POV

I woke up in Sienna's bed, sunlight slipping through the blinds, warming my bare chest. My body felt light, still buzzing from last night-her soft laugh, her dark eyes locking on mine, the way she let me hold her like she was mine.

I reached for her, wanting her warmth, but my hand hit cold sheets. My stomach dropped. Not again! Her running from my place after our first night flashed in my head-heels clicking, door slamming. I sat up, heart racing, looking around. Her paint-stained tank top was on the floor, but no Sienna. Was she scared off by my age, my money, or something deeper?

I pulled on my jeans and shirt, sleeves unbuttoned, flapping as I rushed downstairs. My mind spun, did I push too hard? Was she shutting me out? Coffee's smell hit me as I reached the kitchen, stopping me.

There she was, at the counter, her dark hair loose, wearing a tight tank and shorts that hugged her curves. She stirred eggs in a pan, humming an old Madonna song, her hips swaying just enough to make my breath catch. Relief flooded me, easing my tight chest. She hadn't run. Not yet.

"Thought you took off," I teased, leaning against the doorway, my voice rough from sleep, keeping it light.

She glanced back, her black eyes sharp but soft at the corners. "Take off? It's my place, genius. Where am I going?" Her lips twitched, almost a smile, but her tone had a bite, like she was hiding something.

I grinned, stepping closer, the wood floor cool under my feet. "You've got a habit of disappearing. Left me hanging once." I kept it playful, but my gut twisted, remembering her bolting from my house, like I was a mistake.

She snorted, scraping the pan with her spatula, the sound sharp. "I don't ditch in my own house. Want eggs or you just gonna stare?" Her words were tough, but her shoulders were stiff, like she was ready for a fight.

I moved to the counter, close enough to catch her vanilla scent mixed with coffee. "Sienna, what's the deal? You're acting like last night was nothing." My voice dropped, pushing a little. I wanted her to admit it-the spark, the way she leaned into me, like we were more than a fling.

She froze, setting the spatula down with a clink. "It was something, but doesn't mean it fits." Her eyes flicked to mine, then away, her fingers gripping the counter. "I googled you online and you're twenty-six, that makes you a little older than my kids. I'm forty-two, Daniel. People will tear me apart, say I'm some old woman chasing a young guy's cash." Her voice cracked, low and raw, her fear spilling out.

Her words hit like a fist, not because they shocked me, but because I saw the pain in her eyes. She wasn't just pushing me away, she was fighting herself, some voice telling her she wasn't enough.

I thought of my dad, how he walked out when his business crashed, leaving me and my sister to face the whispers and empty bank accounts. I was sixteen, learning to block out the world, building walls to keep the hurt away. I wasn't letting Sienna do that.

I stepped closer, my hand finding hers, my fingers curling around her wrist, gentle but firm. Her skin was warm, her pulse quick under my thumb. "I don't care what people say," I said, my voice low, steady. "When my dad left, I learned to shut out the noise. He bailed after his company tanked, left us with nothing. I was just a kid, but I built my life anyway. I know what's real, Sienna, and this is." My throat tightened, the memory raw, but I needed her to see I meant it.

Her breath caught, her hand tightening in mine, but she didn't pull away. "You make it sound simple," she whispered, her voice shaky, eyes wet. "It's not. I've got a life, kids. People will judge me, call me desperate." She looked down, her fingers trembling, like she was scared of losing everything.

Her fear cut me deep. She wasn't just worried about gossip-she was afraid of losing herself. I tugged her hand, turning her to face me, her eyes searching mine. "You're not desperate. You're fucking incredible," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Your heart, your art, the way you hum when you cook. I want that, not just a fling." I grinned, trying to lighten her, my fingers tracing her palm, slow and careful.

Her lips twitched, but her eyes stayed guarded. "You're too young to know what you want," she argued, her voice stubborn but cracking. "This'll crash, and I'll be the one hurt."

I stepped closer, my hand still in hers, my thumb brushing her knuckles, sending a spark through me. "I'm old enough to know you're worth it," I countered, my voice low, almost a growl. "One date, Sienna. No pressure. Just us, no world, no labels." I lifted her hand, my fingers fondling hers, gentle, my eyes holding hers, begging her to say yes.

Her eyes softened, her breath quickening as my fingers brushed her wrist. She wanted to give in-I could feel it in the way her hand stayed in mine, the way her body leaned closer. "Daniel..." she started, her voice soft, torn, like she was about to let go.

I lifted her onto the counter, gentle, my hands on her waist, her thighs warm against my hips. I didn't kiss her, though I wanted to, my lips close to her cheek, my breath brushing her skin. "One date," I murmured, my fingers sliding to her hand again, fondling her fingers, slow and steady. "Let me show you I'm all in."

Her eyes fluttered, her hand squeezing mine, but doubt lingered, her body tense. "You don't know what you're asking," she whispered, her voice raw, her fear of judgment louder than her want.

"I know exactly what I'm asking," I said, my thumb stroking her palm, my eyes locked on hers. "I'm asking for you."

The front door burst open. "Mom!" Zoe's voice cut through, sharp and shocked.