Page 24 of Viper

She let out a laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a lot more to look at than I do.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grouched, scooping too much sugar onto a spoon and dumping it into her coffee. This might be their first morning together, but he knew because of things that Atlas had said that she liked her coffee sweet.

He’d envisioned her spending the night in his bed more times than he could count. But in his fantasies, he hadn’t been on the fucking couch.

She reached for the creamer and finished fixing her brew, then he did the same. Thankfully, the conversation turned away from their lack of clothes.

“So, we have coffee,” she said, lifting the mug to her lips.

He grunted absently.

She shot him a disapproving look. “You promised you’d talk to me over coffee.”

“I am talking to you.”

“Troy. You know what I mean.”

He gave her a devilish smirk. “I already told you I came here for you, Paige. I meant it.”

She narrowed her eyes, and guilt sprouted inside him. She wanted more of an explanation.

He sighed and took a long swig of the elixir that should’ve done more to level out his thoughts. Ah, well. This was the best he was going to get. Fatigue, brain fog, and a rock-hard erection that’d be left to his own devices later.

Maybe.

His brain immediately went to the stunning woman beside him. The familiar fantasy of her straddling him blipped through his mind. It then shifted to reveal all the different positions in which he’d drive into her if given the chance.

And that chance was why he was here. Already he was screwing it up and shooting himself in the foot like a goddamn coward.

“Sorry. I’m evading and I don’t mean to. Don’t know where to start.”

She gave him an understanding smile. “Well, I guess I’d like to know why you wanted to see me at all. The last time we spoke about, um, our mutual attraction . . .” Her cheeks turned pink. “You made it clear there was a line you wouldn’t cross because of Atlas.”

Again, he grunted. Ever since the first time he met Paige, at her parents’ twenty-fifth-anniversary party five years ago, he’d been fucking hooked.

Lavender-colored dress, blond hair pinned back to expose the long column of her tanned neck. She’d been the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Still was.

He hadn’t missed a fucking beat. He’d approached her right at the champagne table and sparked up conversation—and hell, she’d been interested. He was as sure of that as his own name. Atlas must have recognized their spark too because the walking, talking cockblocker quickly leaped in.

How many times had he looked for that same spark with someone else? Dozens of bars, even more dates, trying to find even a shred of that instant connection. He always came up empty.

Ever since blowing Paige off, after they bumped into each other at a pub two months ago and he fucking kissed her, he’d understood that he’d never find that jolt again.

And fuck, he wanted more. He wanted to see how much that jolt shocked him. If it’d dim even a little once he kissed her again, touched her . . . fucked her.

He was a bastard for it. He knew that better than anyone else. But he was also a hot-blooded male who’d done everything in his power to turn off the feelings he had for Paige and failed. After every time he saw her, heard her voice or her name, he went home and dreamed of her.

He needed closure. He was a man obsessed, and if he didn’t get whatever infatuation this was out of his system, he’d go nuts.

He met her captivating eyes. “You’re right. There is a line between us. But every day that passes, it gets thinner.”

“You living in West Virginia is also a line,” she said slowly.

“An easy one to fix.”

Her shoulders slumped an inch, and her eyes grew wide and serious. Then she blinked, her lashes long and soft against her cheeks, which were filling with color.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly. “When I heard you were in Florida and I had time to kill I thought—” He huffed a breath. “I thought having distance from home would give us a little perspective. See if this jolt between us is superficial or . . . more.”