“Strange how?” He came to stand in front of me.
“Just a lot of different emotions,” I said.
“I know.”
His hands went to my arms, his eyes flicking up and down my body, lingering on my breasts and my lips. The space between us was both infinite and infinitesimal. I couldn’t breathe because if I did, I would drown in his scent. An overwhelming urge came over me to run my fingers through his hair, to wrap my arms around his neck, and pull his face down to mine. That need for him had always been there, but never this acute. It had surged, intensifying, as if it had been on a dimmer switch and someone had thrown it all the way up.
A different jolt lurched through me, a need that didn’t feel entirely my own but just as hungry, if not more so. I couldn’t place it at first, could only feel the raw need and hunger there that made every inch of my body seem to burn. Then I realized it wasn’t my emotion at all, not entirely. It was coming through the mating bond. It was Drake’s. He wanted me even more than I wanted him.
His hand went to my waist, and he gripped it tight, the touch sending shivers rippling through me. His eyes flicked up and down my body. He pulled me closer, his tug on my waist a command, until we were nearly flush with one another. He considered me for a long moment.
“You know, that dress is incredibly distracting,” he growled.
“Is it?” I nearly squeaked.
He nodded. “It suits you. It complements your figure.” His hand tightened on my waist.
I wanted him. I wanted this to happen. It was what I had wanted for years when I was younger. Now, here it was. All it would take would be clearing those final few inches to press my mouth to his, and we would both be lost. I could tell by his expression that he was thinking the same thing, that he wanted the same thing. My heart kept stuttering. It would be so, so easy.
But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t do anything with Drake that I would regret later. And this wasn’t me. It wasn’t him. It was the mating bond, nothing else. If I gave in to these urges now, then I would never forgive myself.
Taking a deep breath, I reached out and pushed him gently away. “We’re not doing this,” I said.
Drake blinked, his hands falling away from my waist. “Why not?” he asked.
I gave a frustrated laugh as I ran my fingers through my hair. I didn’t miss the way he watched, as if me mussing my hair had triggered something. It only made that need and craving worse.
“Believe me, I want it,” I said. “I really do.”
Hunger and lust rippled through the mating bond as it spread across his face. He took a half-step forward, but he didn’t move any further.
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.
I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. “It’s not us,” I said. “It’s just the mating bond. And I don’t want to have sex just because of the bond. It wouldn’t feel real to me.”
He snarled. “All right,” he growled. “If that’s what you want.”
It isn’t!, part of me screamed.But I can’t do this. If anything ever happens between us, then I want it to be because it’s a conscious decision, and I’m not there yet.
Except I couldn’t tell Drake that. Not him. Telling him that would lead to a whole other set of problems that I didn’t want to broach. More than anything, I didn’t want to admit that I still wanted him when I thought I had moved on. Telling him that I was still attracted to him would draw me back to that day that I tried so hard to put behind me. It would open me up to getting hurt once more. I had dealt with his rejection once before. I couldn’t put myself through it again.
When I didn’t respond or refute his assertion, he spun on his heels and stalked off deeper into the house, leaving me alone in the living room, my thoughts and still-pounding heart keeping me company.
Chapter 6 - Drake
“You all right?” Oz asked as we sat in my office, going over some new information.
“Fine,” I grunted.
Oz laughed. “Very convincing. What’s on your mind?”
Gesturing at the pages in front of us, I said, “This.”
“It’s not just that. You should know by now that you can’t disregard my dazzling intellect,” Oz said. “My guess is it’s personal. How are things with Liv?”
I kept my expression neutral. Oz had always been able to read me like a book, even when no one else could. That didn’t mean I was going to talk to him about this particular can of worms.
I shrugged, shuffling the pages as I looked down at the table. “Things are fine,” I said.
