Everywhere. That’s the problem. I want you everywhere, and I always will.
“It’s a bad idea to play chicken with me. We both know I’m not afraid of jack.” Lies. She was deathly afraid of the things he made her feel. But if she kept saying how courageous she was, maybe she could make everyone believe it?
“I’m not playing chicken.”
“Neither am I. I will pierce your skin, kiddo.” More lies.
He shrugged, cool as a cucumber. “I have to begin somewhere. You’ve got a head start.”
Definitely, compared to him. She’d gotten her first tattoo when she was seventeen, a tiny pot of gold on her hip she’d been delighted to show off in a bikini as soon as possible. Mostly to show offto Nicholas, who had stared for a long time before he’d realized she was watching him. Then he’d flushed a dark red, before making his excuses and disappearing inside his family’s lake house.
They’d started dating a week later, and the first time his hands had coasted over her body in the backseat of his car, he’d gone straight for the gold, fingers and lips and tongue tracing it reverently. She owed that lucky charm a lot.
Like years and years of heartache, dummy.She pursed her lips, trying to think past her inconvenient lust long enough to get out of this.
She’d known keeping off his radar would be difficult, but she’d thought she’d have more time. She’d kept a low profile, only traveled back and forth between home and work, hadn’t looked up any old friends or acquaintances. What a naive, silly idea. Clearly, all it took was one person who spotted and recognized her to get the phone trees ringing. This town literally wasn’t big enough for the both of them.
You came home to move forward.
There was nothing to discuss here, nothing that would help them move forward. Only a repetitive cycle of pain and desire she had resolved to break this year. If she hadn’t had to come home, it might have worked too. “You’ve got a ways to go if you’re planning on catching up.”
She played with a lock of her hair, draping it over her left shoulder, letting it cover her heart. She’d done a shitty job of protecting that foolish organ her whole life. That needed to change.
Nicholas’s gaze dropped to that lock of hair. When she’d caught sight of him sitting in his car, she couldn’t deny she’d felt a spark of joy.
That same spark tingled to life as he walked toward her now. But then she noted how his steps were hesitant, reluctant, and that spark died a swift, fierce death.
Because he didn’twantto walk toward her. He might crave her body, but that was all he wanted. And he hated himself for it, the same way she hated herself for being unable to control her feelings for him.
Every muscle tensed when he raised his hand, but it only hovered over her bare arm before dropping back to his side. “This is new.”
Her skin was hot and tingly, like the ink on the vine was fresh. “Got it a few months ago,” she managed. Because a clinging vine the color of her eyes served as a good reminder of what she didn’t ever want to be.
“Hmm.” His gaze dipped to her cleavage and grew heavy-lidded. They never lingered when they were in bed together, and the lights were usually off, so he hadn’t seen the details of the rest of the ink on her body. Part of that was by design. Each dot of pigment meant something to her, something she wasn’t sure she could share with him and be okay.
But in her fantasies, they played a wonderful game called Inspect Livvy’s Body Thoroughly. It was a good game.
But you’re not playing it anymore, in your mind orreality. Because you’re taking charge of your life and your future and heavenly God, he smells so good, like cinnamon and...
“It’s pretty. What does it mean?”
She faltered. “It means I like pretty things,” she lied.
Deep lines etched his forehead. “Why... ?” There went that muscle in his jaw again. “Why are you here?”
More reluctance. He hated he’d had to ask that. She bet the only son of a family onForbes’s richest must generally know everything going on in his world.
Did he not know about her mother’s accident? She’d simply assumed he would hear of it. Or... A sharp pain lanced her chest. Maybe he did know, and he hadn’t expected her to show up.
If that was the case, then it only underscored how much they’d changed. The woman he’d known all those years ago would have dropped everything to come home if her mother’d broken her hip. No, that wasn’t right. That woman would have never left to begin with.
Ugh. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her mom with him. “I told you. I don’t have time to talk. I’m working.”
He leaned closer, giving her another delightful hint of aftershave. “And I told you. I’ll get a tattoo, if that’s what it takes to have you answer my questions.”
Her lips firmed, her temper crackling.Yes, good,get mad. A solid show of messy drama will chase him out just as well as anything else.“Fine.” She reached behind her, grabbed the clipboard holding blank forms and a pen. “Here.”
He accepted the board when she shoved it at him. “What is it?”
