Horror shadowed his green eyes, but I had no more time for this. He was the one who kissed me. I skirted around him and left him behind before he could do it to me, exactly like his brother had.
Chapter Eight
Van
* * *
A few days had passed since the kiss that would make the next two months and one week feel like ten years.
Ten years of wondering if she was soft everywhere, if she tasted just as sweet everywhere.
Ten years of knowing that my brother knew the answer. He’d experienced it. A permanent sour taste stained my tongue.
Ten years of admitting I was no better than him.
The hurt in her eyes… It had been my fault. My goddamn inner asshole reared its ugly head.
It wasn’t Clover’s fault. She was a desirable woman. Attractive, smart, and funny. Adorable and sexy. Unless she had bodies buried all over the property, she was the whole package, and even then, I’d think long and hard about justifying those graves before I turned her in.
But she wasn’t a serial killer. I was keeping my distance as if she was one, though. The atmosphere in the house was cold and quiet. We didn’t talk. I slept on the couch, claiming that it was my shoulder. My joint was fine. So was my knee. I didn’t deserve the bed after the hurt I’d put in her eyes.
I was in my office for the tenth hour. I’d made more progress in the last few days than I had in three months living with my demanding parents. Amazing how productive I could be when I was avoiding the woman of my dreams.
My stomach cramped for the eighth time in the last half hour. I had skipped lunch, and it was well past dinnertime. I needed food, and I’d have to walk by Clover to get it. Whether she was at the table behind her two massive monitors or if she was watching TV, this house was too small to avoid her.
I pushed a hand through my hair. Shit. Grow up, Van. I didn’t avoid my brother this much when he was being a peak narcissist.
With a sigh, I rose. The dining room light was off, but a dull glow flickered from the room. When I turned into it, my stomach sank. She was curled in her chair with her knees to her chest. A blanket cocooned her, and she stared at her screen. Her wan smile was a punch right to the sternum, and it wasn’t aimed at me.
Why wasn’t she curled up on the couch? “What are you doing?”
She didn’t glance at me. “Watching Sweet Home Alabama.”
I stopped before the kitchen and turned to look at the dark living room. “At the table?”
“You’re sleeping on the couch. I don’t want to?—”
“Jesus, Clover. Have you been spending your entire day in that chair?” It wasn’t even padded. I was supposed to be the uncomfortable one. I was the asshole, and I wasn’t pregnant.
“You spend all day in the office.”
“In my gamer’s chair. The one specially designed for long periods of time.” I raked another hand through my hair. Not only that, but I also got up a lot during the day. My knee hurt if it was bent too long. “Go sit on the couch.”
“No, it’s fine.” She clicked her screen off. “It’s almost time for bed anyway.”
“I’ll put the TV in the bedroom.”
“Van, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” If it was, she would look at me. She’d smile at me. She wouldn’t sound distant when we were feet apart. I put my hands on my hips. Was that too confrontational? I crossed my arms. That wasn’t better. Hands went on the hips again. “I’ll sleep in the bed tonight. Go be comfortable.”
She hugged the blanket tighter around her. “I know you don’t want to sleep in the same bed with me. It’s okay. I can make compromises too.”
“No.” Frustration scratched over my skin. “No, Clover. I crossed a line and made you uncomfortable, all for a stupid kiss.”
Her lips formed a troubled line. “The kiss wasn’t that bad.”
I paused. It was fucking amazing. For me. “Wasn’t it good?” I squeezed my eyelids shut and shook my head. Her sweet moans. Her soft curves. Good was an understatement. I opened my eyes. “Never mind.”
