“You don’t owe me anything,” I call after her.
Her laugh floats back. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do as a thank you. I want to cook for you.”
I follow her with my eyes, helpless to say no to her. She reaches into a cabinet, stretching high, sweater lifting to reveal a sliver of bare waist.
I grip the edge of the table. If I don’t, I’ll cross the room, press my mouth to that strip of skin, and never stop.
She pulls out pasta and rummages through the fridge. “So what do you do when you’re not rescuing women from catastrophic hard drive failures?”
“Work.”
She glances at me over her shoulder, her smile playful. “That’s not an answer. Hobbies? Friends? A secret girlfriend?”
I look at her, understanding she’s fishing for information. I have nothing to hide from her. “No girlfriend.”
“That’s exactly what a woman likes to hear,” she says.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say her sigh is one of relief.
Oh, Vivian, if only you knew what you’re doing to me…
Or maybe she does.
A battle wars between my head and my heart. She makes me want to break my rule about not getting involved with a woman. Could it be different with her? Possibly. But exploring that could leave her hurt, and I can’t bear the thought of hurting Vivian.
But God help me, if she keeps flirting, I won’t be responsible for what I’ll do.
Dinner turns into a small disaster—smokefilling the kitchen, her swearing under her breath, me laughing harder than I have in months. She gives up, orders Thai, and twenty minutes later, we’re on her couch, containers scattered across the coffee table.
Vivian tucks her legs beneath her, knee brushing mine more times than could be considered a coincidence.
“So much for impressing you with my cooking,” she laughs.
“I’m impressed you tried.”
“Liar.” She grins, leaning closer. “Next time, I’ll order pizza before you arrive.”
Next time. The casual assumption gives me an exhilarating thrill I haven’t felt with a woman before. I want this. I want her. Even though I know all the reasons I should walk away and protect her.
I set my food down. “You’re not a damsel in distress, Vivian. You’re running a business, doing everything on your own. I’m already impressed by you.”
Her lips part, surprised, then soften into something that makes my chest ache. “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because it was safe, or smart. Just because it felt good?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
She leans in, voice low. “Maybe we can change that.”
My heart pounds. My cock aches. I should leave. I should protect her from me, from this. But when she threads her fingers through mine, every last wall I’ve built starts to crack.
“I should probably go,” I rasp.
“Probably,” she echoes, not moving away. Her thumb strokes my palm. “But do you want to?”
No. I want to drag her under me right here on this couch. I want to bury myself inside her until the only word on her lips is my name.
“No,” I say.
“Then stay and let’s watch a movie.”
