“I get it, I get it,” he says, backing away from me in the direction of his kitchen, which is open concept and attached to the living area. “You want to bone me.” Going to the cupboard, he grabs a bottle of whiskey. “Want one?”
“No thanks,” I say automatically, even though it would probably calm my nerves. “I don’t drink during fight camp.” Although I’m not surprised he does.
As if reading my mind, he tilts his head, his smile turning wry. “I can see the cogs turning in that brain of yours. You disapprove of alcohol.”
“Only at certain times.” I don’t want him getting the impression I’m a judgmental stick in the mud. “It just seems unimportant compared to other things. Is it really worth the risk?”
He shrugs. “That’s for each person to decide for themselves. If you’re asking me, I think life is meant to be enjoyed, and I like a nightcap every now and then. Does that mean I’m out partying and getting wasted every night? Hell, no. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have.”
Nodding, I concede the point. “I grew up in a town that wasn’t always kind to my family. A single mom who had two kids more than a decade apart is like crack to the local gossips. I always knew that people would pay close attention if I ever took a step out of line, so I found it easier not to give them ammunition.”
He retrieves a single shot glass from a drawer and pours a small portion of whiskey into it. “Surely, training in the martial arts added fuel to the fire.”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Yeah, but it was safer than the alternative.”
“Which was?”
I watch as he sips the amber liquid, the cords of his throat moving. The edge of the glass rests gently on his plump lower lip and for a moment, I envy it. I remember how those lips felt and I want them on mine again.
“Harley?” he prompts.
“Oh, yeah.” I swipe a strand of hair off my face with more vigor than necessary. “Getting beaten up. I was an easy target, but once I fought back a couple of times, the bullies left me alone.” I can’t believe we’re standing in his kitchen having this conversation. “This isn’t what I came here for.”
“I know.” He sets the whiskey down and approaches me. I stand my ground as he places his hands on the counter behind me and brackets me between his arms. His eyes search mine. “But I’m still not clear on exactly why you are here and what you want from me when you said you’re having trouble trusting in our attraction. How about you break it down and make it really simple?”
Tipping my chin back, I refuse to be intimidated by his size and appeal. I take a breath and slowly release it. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Okay.” He nods, as though his lips aren’t mere inches from mine, his body so close I can smell a hint of aftershave. “But would this be a one-off fucking or is it the start of a pattern of fucking?”
“Well, that really depends on how good it is, doesn’t it?” I say tartly, and the cheeky grin vanishes from his face.
His eyes smolder like dark embers. “Trust me, you’ll want more. The question is, are you going to let yourself have it?”
Groaning, I glance off to the side. Why is he forcing us to have this conversation? Aren’t guys usually just eager to get whatever they can and figure it out later?
“Harley.” His fingers land on my chin and he steers my face back to his. “I’m not doing this with you if I’m interchangeable with any other man out there. Either you wantme, and you agree to give me a real chance, or you’ll have to go scratch your itch elsewhere.” His lips pinch together. “Although I must say, I don’t love that option.”
“Oh, my God. You’re actually doing this.” He’s holding out for more. While it frustrates me because I’m afraid to open up to him more than I already have, I respect his position. Closing my eyes, because it’s difficult to think with his gorgeous self all up in my grill, I think it over. I like Devon. He’s fun to be around, but we’re opposites in a lot of ways. I don’t know him well enough to be willing to risk my relationship with Seth. That said, after tonight, I can’t help thinking I’ve misjudged him, and not taking a chance feels just as risky as putting it all on the line. I don’t want to live safely and end up sad and alone.
“Okay.” It’s hard to say the word around my clenched jaw, but even though my eyes are shut, I can sense the change in him. His body relaxes and sways closer to mine, brushing against me in a few key locations that send sparks crackling over my skin. Blinking, I refocus, and the joy that seems to radiate from his every pore attracts me to him like the opposing end of a magnet. “Let’s give this a chance. But,” I add as he starts to dip his head, “it’s just between you and me for now.”
“Until you feel secure in our relationship.”
The air above my mouth stirs as his lips move. Heat rushes to my center. How is it so erotic when he hasn’t even touched me yet? His lips brush mine. Once, twice. Soft as a butterfly’s wing. Something flutters in the vicinity of my heart, and I ignore it. My heart shouldn’t be involved. Not yet. No matter how sweet his kisses are.
He pulls back, and our gazes lock. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
Disappointment sours my stomach. Why would he put me through everything he just did if he doesn’t want me? I try to shove him away.
“Easy, sparky.” He lowers his voice. “I’m going to make love to you. That’s what it will be between us.”
My insides tie themselves in knots. “You can’t just say that.”
He cocks a brow. “But I did, and if that’s not okay with you, you’re welcome to leave.”
Damn him.I squeeze my fists at my sides. Damn. Him. Why does he have to play with my emotions like this? Why can’t he just let sex be sex?
Because he knows what you could have together.
