“I... hope so.”
They kept staring at each other. Her hand was soft and warm on his face. He had no idea what might have happened, but Olivia finally gave a little jerk and dropped her hand.
He thought she was going to pull away now, but she didn’t. She laid her head back on his shoulder, reclining against his chest. She was between his legs now, and both his arms were around her.
This was a very dangerous position for the state of his body, but he wasn’t prepared to give it up yet.
They were silent for a while, nothing but the crackling fire breaking the dark stillness of the room. Then she said out of the blue, “And I don’t always get my way.”
It took him a while to backtrack enough to follow her. “Maybe not always. But I guarantee you get your way a lot just because you’re so pretty.”
“I’m not that pretty. Not prettier than anyone else.”
He snorted. “You’re prettier than everyone else. You always have been.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean when we were nine years old, you wore pink ribbons in your hair for our school pictures, and I distinctly remember thinking that you had to be the prettiest girl in the world.”
“You did not!”
“Yes, I did.”
“I wasn’t that pretty.”
“Yes, you were. You’re really going to argue with me about this?”
“I’ll argue with you about anything I want.”
“That has been made manifestly clear.”
She giggled, and he couldn’t help the prickle of pride at having made her laugh like that.
Then she said in a different tone, “Well, you’re really good-looking. Do you always get your way?”
“Not always. But you’ve been pretty all your life, so you probably don’t even notice when it happens. Whatever looks I have now, I definitely didn’t have all my life. I very vividly see the difference in how people treat me.”
She lifted her head to check his expression. “Is it that noticeable?”
“Yes. It’s that noticeable. It’s like I’m a different person now.”
She was frowning. “Maybe you feel like a different person because you act like one. You’re different now. You know you are. You used to be nice and shy and kind of...”
“Geeky? Clueless? Pitiful?”
“No!” Her mouth twisted. “You weren’t really a geek. You liked all those model cars and didn’t hang out with a lot of friends, but that wasn’t what I was going to say. You were... sweet.”
He let out a dry huff. “Sweet? Great.”
“You were sweet. I liked it. Maybe that’s why people treat you different now.”
“If you say so. I’m definitely not sweet anymore.”
“You’re not going to get any argument about that from me. Although...”
His mind and body were still buzzing with excitement, and it was intensifying as the conversation grew more intimate. “Although?”
“You were kind of sweet before,” she admitted, dropping her thick eyelashes. “After you hurt my feelings.”
“You thought that was sweet?”
“Yeah.” She lifted her eyes, and they were shining again. More than he’d ever seen before. “Kind of.”
“I’ll take it,” he murmured.
There was absolutely no way he could resist anymore, even though everything in his brain told him to hold back the way he’d always done before.
He didn’t hold back. He moved forward. He brushed his lips against hers.
The buzzing turned into a throbbing as soon as he felt her lips touching his. He leaned into the kiss, moving his mouth to feel hers even more.
Her breath hitched audibly, and one of her hands came up to his shoulder. Then she was kissing him back, and it was better than anything. All her soft, warm shining burst out in visceral eagerness. Her tongue darted out to meet his, and he deepened the kiss, groaning low in his throat as his now full erection throbbed in pleasure, anticipation.
He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but there was no way to stop himself. His hand was moving now of its own accord, like it had been doing earlier. But this time it was slipping inside her robe so he could touch one of her breasts.
It felt exactly as he’d known it would. Soft and rounded and velvety smooth with a firm peak that tightened under his fingers.
He knew she liked how he was touching her. She arched into his hand and gave a little whimper against his mouth.
This was Olivia. Kissing him. Letting him touch her breast. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing it. His vision blurred as he tried to process what was happening.
He’d wanted this for what felt like forever.
Maybe he’d been wrong when he assumed he’d never be able to have it.
Five
SCOTT MATHESON WAS kissing her.
He was kissing her.
One of his hands was on her breast and the other was holding on to her braid.
The surge of pleasure and excitement that rushed through her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She clung to his bathrobe, sliding her tongue against his, trying to get deeper, more of him.
Then one of the logs in the fire gave a loud crack, and the sound pierced the heated blur of her mind.
This was Scott.
Scott Matheson.
She wasn’t supposed to be kissing him.
She wasn’t supposed to even like him.
She gasped against his lips. Pulled back. Tried to straighten up from where she was sprawled on top of him.
He grunted when she accidentally kneed him in the thigh, but he let her go as she withdrew.
“What...” She tried to take a full breath, her face burning and her body still throbbing with want. “What was that?”
Scott looked just as flushed and dazed as her. He winced as he straightened up to a sitting position, adjusting his robe around him.
“What was that?” she asked again, a new kind of excitement rising inside her, one that had nothing to do with physical arousal.
Scott had kissed her.
He’d wanted to kiss her.
And the way he’d acted before the kiss had been... different. The conversation had felt special. Just as special as the kiss.
Maybe he’d felt that way too.
“That was a kiss,” Scott said, his expression clearing like he’d managed to pull himself together.
She hadn’t managed that yet. Her head and her heart might explode at any moment. “A kiss?”
“Yes, a kiss.” He lifted his eyebrows just slightly with a glint of dry humor. “Didn’t you recognize it?”
She stared at him breathlessly for a few seconds that stretched out far longer than they should.
He was back to normal. His typical irony—half teasing and half challenging. He’d been into the kiss for sure, but it must have just been physical if he was able to fall back into himself so quickly.
It had taken him less than a minute, and she was still barely able to get a word out.
Great.
Just perfect.
She’d gotten all excited about nothing.
There was no way in hell she was going to let him see it—not the foolish excitement or the crash of disappointment. She arched her eyebrows the way he was and did her best attempt at a cool look. “Uh, yeah, I’m capable of recognizing a kiss. I was wondering why it even happened.”
“You were lying all over me and looked like you wanted to be kissed.”
She gasped. “You’re blaming this on me? You’re the one who kissed me. I don’t know what you’re used to, but I don’t go around kissing guys I don’t like.”
“Well, you kissed me, so what does that say?” He was still flushed, and he looked unusually tense, but his eyes were laughing at her.
Laughing at her.
He thought he’d won this encounter, and she secretly suspected he was right.
But she couldn’t let him win.
She wouldn�
��t.
“That says you kissed me.”
“It was just a kiss.”
“I know it was just a kiss.”
“Then why are you making such a big deal about it?”
“I’m making a big deal because you kissed me just now, and you’re acting like it was just one of those things. I’ll have you know, Scott Matheson, that I don’t have any desire to be kissed by you.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before she could catch it. “You seemed to enjoy it just now.”
“I was taken by surprise. I forgot it was you I was kissing.”
That happened to be mostly true. She had forgotten it was obnoxious, womanizing Scott she was kissing. She’d been kissing a man who was funny and sweet and sexy as hell and softer than he ever let on.
She’d evidently been wrong.
“Well, it was me. So we can do it again if you want, or we can agree it was one of those things and let it go.”
“I’m not going to kiss you again.”
“All right then. So it was one of those things.”
“Fine.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
She was breathing raggedly, her body still pulsing as if something was about to happen that she really wanted.
She was an idiot though.
This was what Scott did. He dated girls. He kissed them. He screwed them once or twice.
And then he moved on as if it meant nothing.
She wasn’t going to be one of those girls.
She wasn’t.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said. It wasn’t the best rejoinder in the world, but she had to say something.
Now that she’d said it, she needed to make herself move. She got up. Smoothed down her robe since it was gaping open in a way that showed too much of one breast. Then she managed to make her legs work enough to walk to the bathroom.
She shut the door with a loud click.
It was very dark in the bathroom. There was no window and no lights.
Damn.
She should have looked for a candle or a flashlight. Going back out now would feel like a defeat, however, so she fumbled her way to the toilet, sat down, peed, found the toilet paper in the dark, and then flushed.
She had to feel around for the sink so she could wash her hands. Then she splashed water on her face and stood for a moment, staring at the dark space where her reflection in the mirror should have been.
She’d wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted even more. And she knew he’d wanted it too.
But she wasn’t going to be just another one-night stand for Scott.
She wasn’t going to be a way to pass the time for him, a means of scratching an itch.
She wasn’t a one-night-stand person, but she had nothing against them as long as both people understood what they were and were going in with the same expectations.
She obviously wasn’t capable of controlling her expectations when it came to Scott, so she couldn’t let herself do it at all.
It didn’t matter how much she wanted to.
She wasn’t going to do that to herself.
With that resolved in her mind, she felt her way to the door and went back out to the main room, where the fire was illuminating the space enough to see.
“It’s dark in there,” she said.
“Yeah. I just found a flashlight we can use.” He was standing next to a drawer in the kitchen, and he switched on the flashlight in his hand. “Batteries work.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Do you need it now?”
“No. I already went. I’m capable of peeing in the dark.”
“I guess we all have our talents.” With that lilting comment, he took the flashlight into the bathroom and shut the door.
She scowled at the closed door for a moment before she went to the cupboard, pulled out a bottle of shiraz, found a corkscrew in the utensil drawer, and opened the bottle. She poured herself a glass and brought it over to the couch.
She’d need to replace the wine with her own money, but there were certain moments in life that required wine.
This was one of them.
She was sipping from her glass when Scott came back out. He stood in the middle of the floor, taking in what she was doing, and then he turned and went to pour himself a glass of wine too.
He came back to sit on the opposite end of the couch from her.
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.
Olivia liked to talk. She liked to laugh and tease and share and understand other people. But she wasn’t averse to silence sometimes, as long as the silence was a good one.
This wasn’t a good silence. It felt tense. Uncomfortable.
Wrong.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she burst out, “You really just go around kissing girls, no matter who they are?”
He jerked visibly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I asked if you really go around kissing girls, no matter who they are.”
“No. I don’t kiss just anyone.”
“Then who do you kiss?” She was pleased that her voice sounded casual since she felt anything but.
“I kiss...” He was looking at her in the orange light of the fire, and there was something odd in his eyes that soon changed into something laughing, more familiar. “I kiss women I want to kiss. And women who want to kiss me.”
“And that’s it. You kiss them. You screw them. And then you... just move on?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Treat women like they’re more than something to relieve your physical urges.”
He stiffened. “I always treat women well. I never sleep with anyone who doesn’t want to sleep with me and who doesn’t know my intentions. I never lead them on.”
“And you really believe all the women you screw want nothing more than the one night you give them?”
“I tell them the truth. It’s not my fault if they don’t take me at my word.”
She made a dismissive sound and matched it with a wave of her hand.
“What does that mean?” Scott demanded with a frown.
“That means you’re being ridiculously naïve if you don’t think some of the women you have sex with aren’t hoping desperately that you’ll change your mind and love them forever.”
“I can’t help what women are secretly hoping. They’re human beings with minds and free wills just like me. If they don’t want to have sex with me, they don’t have to.”
“They do want to have sex with you!” She blinked when she realized what she’d just said. Clearing her throat, she reworded, “I’m sure they do want to have sex with you. They just also might want even more, and a nice guy might realize that and not treat them like they’re disposable.”
“Disposable?” He’d been having this conversation with his typical ironic nonchalance, but now he sounded almost offended. “I don’t treat women that way.”
“Don’t you? How many women have you slept with in your life?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously. How many?”
“I-I don’t know.” He looked almost surprised by this admission.
“You don’t know. You can’t even remember. Do you remember their names? The color of their eyes? How they like to be touched? And you’re telling me you don’t treat them as disposable?”
She’d thought they’d been having one of their normal arguments, but he was reacting differently. He gazed at her for a long time, like he was baffled, disoriented. Then he said, “I don’t... I don’t think I’ve treated them that way. I could remember their names if I thought about it for a few minutes.”
Then he appeared to be doing just that, going over the list of women in his past, trying to remember their names.
He looked so upset by her questions that she (irrationally) felt bad about it. So her tone was milder when she said, “I’m sure you didn’t treat any of them badly. No one has ever complained about
you except a couple of women I’m pretty sure never had sex with you at all. But part of seeing women as fully human is recognizing that women are all different—different from each other and different from you—so none of them are going to be approaching sex with exactly the same attitude you have. Sex is never going to be simple, no matter how much you try to make it so.”
“I don’t... I don’t think it’s simple.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.” He met her eyes suddenly with an intensity she didn’t understand. “I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“And I didn’t kiss you because I thought you were disposable.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Okay then.”
He kept looking at her in the flickering firelight. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not really.”
“Did you really want to kiss me?”
The question was so vulnerable and so unexpected that she couldn’t answer it with anything but the truth. “Yes. I wanted to.”
“Good. I wanted it too.”
They fell into silence again as they finished the wine in their glasses, and this time the silence wasn’t nearly so uncomfortable.
It felt like they understood each other. Maybe for the very first time.
She wasn’t sure what that meant. She’d never dreamed she’d feel connected to Scott this way. It was unnerving. Unsettling. Unbelievable.
She wondered if she’d ever be able to hate him again.
Six
SCOTT FELT LIKE HE’D been through a battle, but it had just been one short conversation with Olivia.
He had no idea how she was capable of doing that to him.
The past six hours had been an emotional roller coaster, and he wasn’t likely to get off anytime soon.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to—not if it meant he could feel the way he’d felt when he was kissing Olivia, even for a minute, even with the crash that inevitably followed.
When he’d finished his glass of wine, he knew he needed to distract himself from Olivia’s rumpled, half-dressed sexiness on the couch beside him. Even though she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want him to touch her again, he was having trouble thinking of anything else. Her hair was still pulled into two braids. Her face was scrubbed clean—flushed and slightly dewy. Her graceful neck and the V exposed by her bathrobe were utterly irresistible. And her eyes were deep and knowing. Like she understood him. Like she saw deep inside him.
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