“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
The wings carried us up, the ground gone from beneath the wheels. He had one hand in his lap balled in a fist, and for a split second I wondered if it was the ascent or my words that caused this.
“Do you still love him?”
“No. I mean, part of me will always care about him, even though he’s selfish and controlling.” My fingertips toyed with the edges of my seatbelt. “Some men claim they want an independent woman, but what they really want . . . is tobreakan independent woman. And once they’ve done it, once they’ve succeeded—the thrill is over. They lose interest and move on.”
He peered at me and didn’t argue or tell me I was wrong. Maybe he knew it was true.Perhaps he’s one of these men,my mind warned. I frowned at the thought.
He was simply quiet for a long while.
When the plane leveled out, he began to look better and more dangerous. He confirmed my suspicions when he took the half-empty glass of water from my hand and set it down on the small table beside us.
“Tell me about the sex.”
“Excuse me?” I said, hushed.
“You heard me. You agreed to tell me about his problem.”
“It was our problem, and I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Bullshit. What was it?”
Anger made my blood pump faster. “Forget it.”
“Did it get too kinky? Too weird? Or did you lose interest?”
Heat burned my face, and I knew I was turning red. “We were incompatible.”
“Incompatible?” Confusion flooded his expression. “Incompatible, how?”
I curled my eyes down to slits. He must have realized he’d reached the edge and shouldn’t push me any further because he softened.
“The incompatibility is on his end,” he declared. “We proved that yesterday.”
I drew in a sharp breath at the memory, and it didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes lit up with opportunity.
“I thought we werequitecompatible, didn’t you?”
I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. “Please, enough.”
When he didn’t respond, I gave him a sideways look. He looked at me like he was evaluating how much further he should push.
“Is that what you want?” He sounded resigned. “For me to stop? Be honest.”
How could I give him an honest answer when I didn’t know myself? I was desired by this man, and that feeling was addicting. He was annoying. Unbelievably handsome. Successful, and...experienced. He could probably screw me without getting his feelings involved and, judging by the twenty minutes in his back seat, it would be enjoyable for both of us.
But there was no way I could tangle with Shawn and not come out the other side a total mess. Separating the emotion from the act was impossible. Plus, I didn’t need to complicate Laurel’s relationship with her husband or his brother.
The cautious side of me, which typically was in control, was adamant we should stop.
But the other, selfish side? It wasn’t ready to shut the door on what he could offer. Paul had made me feel undesirable, like I was inferior.
I didn’t feel that way with Shawn. Not now, and not in the back seat. Out of control? Yes. But I’d felt equal. As if I were a worthy opponent.
“I want you to,” I swallowed thickly, “slow down.”
