He cleared his throat. “As long as we have a few minutes alone, we should probably talk.”
“Oh, Lord.” Her groan vibrated through him. “Those words strike fear into the heart of any right-thinking person.”
If she didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to force her. No matter how much he ached to declare himself.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Never mind. We can talk later, if you’d prefer that.”
“It’s fine.” With a sigh, she tugged at his arm until he climbed back under the covers. “Let’s get this over with. Quickly, if at all possible.”
All right. The direct approach it was.
He took a fortifying breath and laid his heart bare. “I like you, Callie. Very much. Everything I said to Gladys during that interview, I meant. You’re wondrous. Lovely and smart and kind and capable.” He chanced a peek at her, just in time to see a rosy flush bloom on her cheeks. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. Which sounds generic and facile, but I mean it. I want you more than I wanted a completed dissertation and successful dissertation defense. More than I wanted a tenure-track position at a research university. More than I want my job at CMRL. So when I say I want you very much, I mean I could happily see nothing but your face, smell nothing but your perfume, touch nothing but your skin, and hear nothing but your voice for the rest of my life.”
She’d been staring at him, her eyes wide. But at the last bit, she gave a tentative snort. “Just my face?”
“Maybe more than your face.” He grinned at her. “Considerably more.”
She scooted a bit closer, until the side of her breast pressed against his arm, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. “You missed a sense. What about taste?”
Ah. She’d reached the crux of the matter with that simple tease of a question.
“Your mouth haunts me,” he told her. “When you bite your lip, my hand slips on the microfilm machine controls, and I zip past weeks’ worth of colonial newspapers. I drop my pens. I run into desks and bookshelves, because I’m thinking about how soft and glossy your mouth looks. How you would taste. How much pressure you might prefer in a kiss. Whether you’d squirm a little if I sucked on the tip of your tongue.”
She squirmed a bit then, no sucking needed, so he was pretty sure he had his answer to that last question.
“Thomas…” Her hand landed on his knee over the covers, and her gaze was soft and searching. “I don’t understand. If you want me so much, why have you been rushing to bed each night and leaving before I wake up?”
He swept a hand, indicating the room. “Because of all this.”
Her dark brows beetled. “You don’t like our hotel?”
“The hotel is great. So were the others, in their own, extremely unique ways.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Let me be clear. I jumped at the chance to spend an entire week with you. This trip has been the greatest windfall of my life, bar none.”
She’d stiffened by his side. “But?”
“I think…” How to say it in a way that didn’t sound patronizing? “I think it would be very easy for someone on this show to mistake forced proximity for real affection.”
She shrank back against the headboard, hurt pinching her face. “You’re worried your feelings for me might disappear once we fly home to Virginia?”
Oh, Lord. He was fucking this up via his clumsy attempts at subtlety.
He jettisoned caution and spoke plainly. “Callie, I’ve wanted you for months, and that’s not going to change. I’m not worried that my feelings for you will fade. I’m worried you won’t want me once we get back home. I’m worried about taking advantage of you while you’re overwhelmed by the intimacy of the whole situation, and I’m worried I might override any hesitancy you might have because I want you so damn much.”
He sighed. “And that’s a lot of worrying for a man who generally doesn’t worry, so I wanted to discuss my concerns with you.”
Moments of silence ticked past.
Her plump lips had gone thin. “That’s patronizing as hell, Thomas.”
Shit. He’d been right the first time.
“Let me see if I have this straight. You want to kiss me.” In response to her questioning look, he nodded. “But you won’t, because you think I don’t know my own mind right now. That I might get lost in the process somehow and French you back in a sort of vacation-induced stupor. Is that correct?”
Good thing she wasn’t turning that beetle-browed glare to the shore visible outside their window. As he’d noted, the tides would have stilled. Immediately.
Her voice was a lash, and he winced at its sting. “How about if I kiss you instead? Is that acceptable? Or would it be further evidence of my maidenly confusion?”
“Okay, I know what I said sounded stupid and condescending. I get it.” He held tight to her hand when she started to slide it free from his. “But Callie, be honest. Can you really tell me you don’t have any doubts? That you aren’t worried about what might happen when we’re back in Marysburg?”
