He meant it. She could see the truth in his gaze, and she felt a stab of finality plunge through her heart.
Her eyes were hot, her throat burning and tight as she turned around. “Okay. If that’s what you have to do, go—” Her voice broke. “Please just go.”
She’d done everything she could do, but she couldn’t fight for them both. He had to want to make it work, too. She’d told him her feelings, and it hadn’t changed anything. He was determined to go through with this, whether he cared for her or not.
She hoped it wasn’t not, but it certainly felt that way right now.
What had she expected? Him to pull her in his arms, and tell her he was falling in love with her, too, and they would find a way to work it out together?
She bit her lip. Maybe a little.
Okay, maybe a lot. No matter how unrealistic that might have been.
She’d tried, but he’d shot her down.
She just wished it didn’t have to hurt so much.
She steeled herself for the slam of the door that would bring an end to it. Whatever “it” might have been.
Thirty
Dean knew it was wrong. He should just leave.
But he couldn’t.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life. She had him all twisted up in knots and unable to think straight.
The subtle taunt of her body pressed against his had been hard enough to resist. Did she have any idea how sexy she looked in that damned robe and how much he wanted to rip it open and see if she was as naked as he suspected she was? She smelled incredible. All clean and girlie. He wanted to bury his face in her damp hair and breathe in every inch of her.
It had been fucking torture not to take her up on the “take me” look in her eyes. He wanted her something fierce, and it had only grown worse since he’d had her. Now he knew exactly what he was missing.
And then she’d had to make it even worse with that little confession.“What if I think I’m falling in love with you?”
Christ, that was the last thing he wanted to hear. Except for one long heartbeat it hadn’t been. It had been about the best thing he’d ever heard, and he’d wanted to put his arms around her, cradle her against his chest, and kiss her until she was damned sure.
But he’d pulled his head out of his ass and would have left, if the shimmer of tears in her eyes as she told him to go tohell hadn’t cut him to the quick. All the pretense, all the bullshit, was stripped away. Gone. He couldn’t lie to her or to himself.
She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t casual. It never had been. From the first the connection between them had been different. It had only grown stronger as they’d gotten to know each other. A week, a month, a year, it wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference. It was there, and he couldn’t let her think otherwise.
He reached for her, and then it was too late. He couldn’t change his mind if he’d wanted to. She was in his arms, his mouth was on hers, she was under him, and he was inside her again. Thrusting. Pounding. Loving.
Over and over. All night long. Telling her with his body what he could not with his words.
I want you.
I need you.
And then sometime near dawn when her legs were wrapped around his neck and he was pinned deep inside her making her come for the last time,I...
Shit.
I can’t.
•••
Annie thought she’d won. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the lovemaking turned from fierce to gentle. The hard, powerful thrusts grew longer. Slower. More rhythmic. His hands caressed... cradled... lingered. The heat in his eyes softened, his gaze never leaving her face.
He cared about her. He couldn’t make love to her like this and not care about her. It was in every gentle touch, every tender kiss, every deep stroke as he laid claim to more and more of her heart.
