I shake my head at his words. “Given where we are, and how long you’ve been absent, forgive me if I don’t believe you.” I finish the last bite of my yogurt before resting the spoon against the rim of the bowl and setting it aside. “Even if you were telling me the truth, you only came for you. Let’s face it; you left back then for greener pastures, and now that time has passed, you feel guilty for your adolescent impulses and came onto this show for closure or whatever version of redemption you think will help you sleep better at night.”
His jaw tightens. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m serious. And I don’t need to be a TV personality for closure.”
“Then what do you need? Because I certainly don’t need you.” I say the words, but deep down something in my gut tells me that’s a lie. For a moment it irks me before I shove it down.
“You.” He takes my hand. “I need you, Lyla.”
The moment his hand makes contact with mine, the pool noise fades. My pulse stutters. I’m quick to pull it back.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say things like that. Things you don’t mean.”
“Why not?”
Because I might start to believe you.
Because I still remember exactly how your hands feel on me.
Because the bundle of nerves between my legs is craving for your touch.
I lift my chin. “Because you forfeited that right.”
“Little one?—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Silence falls between us. On the other side of the table, laughter and chatter erupt. A camera follows one of the guys with one of the girls. The world around us continues to move.
But here, between us, it’s static.
“You can’t just…show up and expect me to take you back like nothing happened.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t expect you to. But…” He lifts his hand, brushing two fingers lightly at my cheek, resting at my jaw. The contact is barely there yet electrifying all at once. “I have every intention of proving to you we belong together.”
Heat floods over my skin. I can’t move. I can’t think of anything other than his touch, his stare, his words.
Is this man insane?
“You look flushed.”
“You’re imagining things,” I deny.
His thumb presses lightly beneath my chin, forcing eye contact. His blue eyes are all I see.
The audacity of this man.
For a moment, I melt into his touch. Firm but gentle.
His gaze softens.
Heat curls and tightens low in my belly. My girl parts flutter.
Hell, no.
I’m only feeling this way because he’s right there. My feelings for him died long ago. At least that’s what I tell myself.
