I can’t let her fantasise about something that can never be, compromise our relationship and ruin everything.
So I force myself to climb the stairs with my heart in my throat and a strange agitation in my legs. I knock on Erin and Patrick’s door, where she entered just now, but there’s no answer. I push it open and see her bag on the floor and some clothes thrown on the bed. I hear the shower going in the other room and I force every single instinct to remain exactly where it is, well hidden under my skin, but the thought of her under the shower gives me an instant erection, the like of which I haven’t had in a very long time.
I am seriously losing control.
I pace like a lion in a cage around the room, fists clenched and breathing with a bit of difficulty because the desire to have her right now is beating me mercilessly, simultaneously I’m overwhelmed by all the qualms I had.
The water stops running and I can hear her moving around in the bathroom. Maybe she’s wrapping herself up in a towel, maybe she’s combing her hair, maybe she’s naked, wet and terribly excited.
The door opens briskly and she freezes in the doorway, looking at me intensely as if she could read very plainly all of the thoughts I was just having about her body. She’s just wrapped in a towel which just barely covers her most intimate parts, with wet hair falling around her face, without a hint of make-up in all of her natural beauty.
I close the distance between us with slow, uncertain steps. She doesn’t move a muscle, does not change expression; she’s punishing me in silence and I can’t blame her. I just told her that there could be nothing between us, that she was just a little girl and that I would never touch her again in my life.
All fucking lies.
Because I would skin myself for this. Because in front of me I see a woman sexy enough to make my knees bend. Because all I want now is to touch her, hold her and have her. Have this woman. For me.
When we are just a few breaths away from one another, Ciara tilts her head slightly, trying to understand my intentions which I think are evident even to the walls in this room.
With a hand shaking in emotion and something else that feels like a desperation to feel something for someone, I touch her face, closing in on her lips.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Ciara. I’m sorry about what I said and for having taken advantage of you. You were vulnerable and upset. I should not have done that.”
I hear her frustrated sigh and see her disappointment at my refusal, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to stop all of this before it’s too late, before both of us can regret what we’ve done.
“We’ve known each other forever. We’ve always been friends, and you are like a sister for me.” I’m repeating this mantra and trying to sound convincing.
Not for her benefit, for mine.
Because I don’t believe a single word that I’m saying. My mouth is pronouncing this load of crap while my head is screaming at me to knock it off and talk about something else.
“Sometimes things can change,” she tries to reason, and the hope in her eyes destroys a little part of me. That same part I thought I had put down forever.
“That’s not how it is here, let me assure you. And I am certain that it is not what you really wanted.”
“You can’t know what I want, Aaron.”
“It’s better like this, for both of us.”
She lowers her glance and steps away from my touch. Her distancing herself from me hurts that little bit of pride that was left in me, but I’m sure I’m doing the right thing for me and for her.
Especially for her.
“I don’t know what happened to me. Try to forgive me. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Friendship?I don’t believe it either.
“It was nothing,” she says, walking away from me decisively and looking for her clothes on the bed. “It was stupid, impulsive… like you said. We’re friends. You don’t have to worry. Everything’s fine.”
I don’t believe her words either, but I pretend to because that’s what I’ve learned to do best over the years. Pretend that everything is fine, that I’m fine, even if I’d like to scream on the inside and slam my head against the wall until all of my thoughts turn to dust. Pretend that it costs me nothing to distance myself from the only person who is able to make me feel something again.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs, I’ll take you to the pub,” I say, turning and going to the door.
I go down the stairs quickly to get away from her, from her deep eyes and her fabulous body, which will probably be the only thing I will be able to think about from this point forward.
