Bluest of Blue (#dirtysexygeeks #3)

by Melissa Blue

  He thought back to her suspicion of his subdued behavior. “It's also agreeable.”

  “What's wrong with either?”

  “Nothing.” He started to say his brother was nice, but he'd hold that secret until his plan was in place. “My friend Oliver is nice. Sweetest guy I've ever met. It's the best thing about him. Porter is pleasant. He gets along with everyone, almost.”

  “Victor is nice, too. I get it.”

  Victor? Nice? Wade had to rub two fingers between his brows to find the right words to describe his friend. “I don't think Victor's ever met pleasant if you exclude being friends with Porter.”

  She placed her forearms on the table, her laugh light. “You have one friend who isn't nice. So?”

  “Who would I die for?”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Oliver, Porter and Victor. If I had to choose between my life or theirs, who would I die for?”

  “All of them,” she answered without hesitation.

  He nodded at her correct answer. “Just because Oliver and Porter, are often, nicer to me doesn't mean I value their life more. They'd never look at me and tell me I look like shit and I should shower. They'd ask if I slept or if I were okay. Victor would throw soapy water on me and tell me that I had smelled like sweaty balls and rotten gym socks. His friendship is just as important.”

  She bit her lip but the smile got away from her. “That's not the way the world works.”

  “And that's why I've never been fond of it.”

  She smirked. “The world is an inanimate object. I'm not sure it's supposed to work in any way.”

  Too amused, he chuckled at her response. “You have been spending way too much time with me.”

  “I have.” She went for more bread. Again, she took her time spreading butter over the slice. “When did you decide nice didn't matter?”

  He stalled by turning his glass around in a circle. Should have known that question would crop up. “When I realized nothing I did would make my parents proud.”

  Her hand paused and for a moment she held the butter knife in mid-air. It clattered to the table. “Everything I read...” She shook her head. Compassion softened her features. “Why do you think your parents aren't proud?”

  He finally picked up his lemonade to drink. “If I do spill the beans about my parents, will you tell me about Angelo?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned away from the table. Wrong thing to say. He went to tug his hand through his hair and remembered he'd cut it to be presentable.

  Wade balled his hands and said, “When I graduated with my Bachelor's and my Master's there were five people in my cheering section. Grady, Oliver, Porter, Victor and Ashley.”

  “Ashley?”

  He shifted. “Porter's sister.”

  Sophie tilted her head. “That's it?”

  “She's also Victor's fiancée.”

  She pursed her lips. “I thought Victor wasn't nice.”

  “He is to her.”

  “Oh.” She put her bread down on the small plate. “I interrupted. You were telling me about your parents.”

  He tried to sift through the words he'd spoken, but nothing should have made her mouth pinch into a tight line.

  Cautious, he picked up where he left off. “Those five skipped school both times. And both times my parents had to work. They took the day off for Grady. Both times—when he got his bachelor's and master's.”

  “When you received your PhDs?”

  “I stopped looking in the crowd for them.” He pushed out a breath and glanced away from her. “They are very nice people.”

  “I understand and I'm sorry to hear that.” She poured him more lemonade, but he knew it was to stall for time. It was her turn to tell him an ugly truth. He waited.

  “Angelo isn't a bastard,” she said in a clipped tone. “He's selfish and I knew it the first time I met him. And that's the hard truth I have to live with every day. I knew what he was and I ignored my gut. Hell, I ignored my head, but he was thoughtful.”

  He did want to hear this and, also, he'd rather get his ear drums cut out. So he gritted his teeth and asked, “Thoughtful?”

  “He'd buy me the bracelet I lingered over in a jewelry store, months after the fact. A trip to the spa if I complained about stress. I'd miss lunch that day and the next, he'd take me to an extravagant restaurant. He didn't just listen. With him, I never had to have a care in the world, because he took care of my every need and want.”

  She was talking about the man like he was the best thing ever. Wade squinted at her. “He sold you out.”

  She flinched. “Because he didn't just love with his everything. He exacted revenge with his everything. And he listened to me. When things went sour, he knew exactly what to say to everyone. The one time I complained about my ankles being too fat, he detailed in the tabloids.”

  Sophie picked up her wine and he could see the tears swimming in her eyes. The hurt was there like the betrayal had happened the day before. “Every soul-wrenching secret I told the man I loved, every fear, every doubt, every off-color joke... The man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with...I told him everything, safe in the thought it would never leave our relationship. He threw it out there for people to read as that week's gossip.”

  She swallowed. “Years later there isn't even an apology song. As far as he's concerned, I deserved to be treated like that.”

  Wade couldn't imagine, and he spent his life's work trying to explain the unexplainable and then convey that in the simplest terms. The betrayal she suffered was too immense. Her work, her principles had become the suit of armor she protected herself with. It made sense she'd get rabid if anyone threatened that last safety net.

  Wade could say he didn't get angry often. Annoyed or irritated was an easy mark to hit. Hearing this story, seeing how she tried to fight back tears...Yeah. Red colored the edges of his vision.

  He said, with so much care, “One call to Victor and he'll never work again. Not even on has-been shows. I'm sure Guantanamo could be a possibility if I give my friend enough incentive.”

  She gasped. “I think you're serious about the last.”

  “One word.”

  “I'm not sure if that's scary or sweet.”

  Scary because if he saw Angelo ever he'd beat the shit out of him, but he wanted to comfort her. “'Cause I'm your sweetie?”

  She brought out her classic glare. “You were just being sweet, I think, and you go and ruin it.”

  With a straight face, he said, “They are taking forever with food here and my glucose levels are getting low.”

  “Science is not the excuse for everything,” she said but laughed.

  “Are you making the argument hunger doesn't—”

  “Oh, look. Bread.” She pushed the basket closer to him.

  She'd laughed and the sadness had disappeared from her eyes. He muttered, “Food does make me less tedious.”

  She picked up another piece. “Never going to let me live that one down either.”

  “Nope.”

  “This little revenge has nothing to do with the Trevor Smith TV spot coming up for you?”

  She was tense about that interview and that trickled into him. So he considered his actions fair trade. “Maybe. Sweetie.”

  As he looked at her across the table, her gaze was soft, open. She wasn't really annoyed at his nitpicking. No. If he had to guess she liked spending time with him. There wasn't a hint of pity. Yeah. He was going to break their stalemate.

  *****

  “Sorry,” Sophie told Wade when she stepped out of the restaurant. “Had to speak to the family before we left. I promised.”

  Fifteen minutes ago she'd handed Wade the car keys and told him to wait. She'd be right out. Wade would have been put out if he hadn't gotten a glimpse of the back room. The family consisted of at least six members on-site. If Dani's reaction was the norm, then he'd count his blessings the farewells had only taken fifteen minutes. He grunt
ed.

  “And why are you standing outside the car?” she asked. “Aren't you cold?”

  His chance to shift things between them had a short window as the night drew to an end. His blood was heated and roaring. “Come here.”

  Her step slowed but she continued toward him. “Why?”

  Within seconds she stood close enough he heard the catch in her breathing. Did Sophie know how often she ate up his personal space? Much closer than arm's length, always. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. Now wasn't the moment to do what he'd planned.

  “Look up.”

  A long second passed before Sophie did what he'd asked. “What am I looking for?”

  He narrowed his eyes and watched for the signs. Dammit. Not yet. “Nothing.”

  She glanced at him. “Is there some kind of once-in-a-lifetime event I'm looking for?”

  “No.” This would take a while. He'd underestimated her balance in those red heels. “But every moment is.”

  She frowned, but the flush in her cheeks was alive and well. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know what it takes to make a universe?”

  “The Big Bang Theory?”

  He shook his head. “That is a theory that starts with...a match stick. The right things came along that lit it. But what made the match?”

  She shifted her weight to one foot. “I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

  “I don't know.”

  She tilted her head and scoffed. “You don't know?”

  “I can't say.”

  She bit her lip and seemed to consider him. “So?”

  “The odds of us even being born, the truly unpredictable way in which we can perish at any second, and every moment in our existence can be viewed as once-in-a-lifetime.”

  She shifted to her other foot. “What do you see when you look at the sky?”

  “Sometimes I'm in awe. If I'm deep in my research I can see math equations. And my favorite times...” He smiled and waited.

  “What?” She stepped forward, leaving almost no room between them.

  “I look up and sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.'”

  She huffed. “I can't believe I fell for that.” But as he knew she would, Sophie glanced at the sky. Maybe her view was a little changed.

  But the important thing was she had two glasses of wine, was wearing her red heels, and had shifted the blood flow to her brain by glancing straight up—twice. Shaky equilibrium was a bitch he'd thank in a few seconds. Sophie swayed. Out of instinct she placed a hand on him to keep her balance.

  Exactly what he'd waited for since he'd decided to change things between them. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them around her waist. The moment their hips connected, he brushed his mouth across hers. She moaned.

  He couldn't be sure if the noise was relief or defeat, but she scraped her teeth along his bottom lip and the difference didn't too much matter. He was tasting her again, filling his hands with her ass. He shifted just right, and as he predicted, Sophie in those heels lined them up perfectly. Her pelvis pressed along his dick.

  He slipped his tongue between her lips as a tease, then more because for weeks she'd starved him of this. The sweet, intoxicating tang of wine couldn't compare to her. Did anything? The soft crush of her body along his made him doubt it. He'd missed the feel of her like this, which was crazy.

  They'd shared a bed once, for a few hours. Holding her close and kissing her shouldn't be like coming home, but it was. And now he knew her reasons for running and there was nothing he could say that would make her trust him with her secrets. But she'd run again if they didn't talk it out.

  Good thing they talked better without words. He used the flick of his tongue to remind her how good they were together. He nipped the corner of her mouth to tell her he was pissed she hadn't let him taste her, wear her on his tongue. There was no sexier outfit she could put on.

  A soft whimper escaped from her mouth. The sound fed the pang of hunger thrumming hard enough to make his body tremble. He clasped her face and delved his tongue deeper, slower.

  Put me on. I need you to.

  She edged back. His heart stopped until her hand trailed down his stomach to his belt buckle. If she brushed her knuckles over him, he'd come right there. Apparently he still had to tie her up to make sure she behaved and didn't drive him crazy.

  He let one hand drop to hers, tangling their fingers until they were entwined. Since Sophie was the type to let her other hand wander, he cupped one breast, letting his thumb skim back and forth to keep her distracted. She shivered.

  Not enough. “Sophie.”

  “Wait.” The single word sounded desperate.

  Wade jerked his head back, but he could feel the urgency vibrating through her right down to his toes. With care he closed his fingers on her arms. Gently because if he didn't hold onto to his control—he had to hold on.

  He edged her back until he was an arm's length away. Refusing to look at her, he tried to breathe. If she looked—walk away. Just go. He pushed off the car and let his feet move one step in front of the other.

  “Wade.”

  He stopped but stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let me walk home, Sophie.”

  “No.”

  He turned at that and fucking regretted it. She was shaking, and it didn't take much to translate the fear on her face. “Don't say anything else, Ms. Lake. Just go.”

  Her head snapped back. “Ms. Lake?”

  “Right now, yes.”

  “Because I won't sleep with you?” she asked, and the hurt spread across her expression.

  He strode back to her. He didn't stop until they were face to face. He could see just how dilated her eyes were. He corralled his temper as best he could. Sex. She accused him of only wanting sex. What fucking planet did she live on?

  “You're Ms. Lake, because we are more than that, and you fucking know it.”

  “You are just a cl...” She swallowed likely unable to finish the lie.

  “Say it, Ms. Lake.”

  “I can't,” she whispered.

  Those two words only put a dent in his anger. “And that's why I'm walking home, away from you. I can't be near you and not want you, and I'll push.” He leaned down and whispered, “I'd lick and touch and suck every part of you that you love me to. I wouldn’t stop until you couldn't leave my bed.”

  He took her lobe between his teeth. She put a hand to his chest but tilted her head to give him better access. He closed his eyes for a moment then stepped back.

  “If I stay, I won't care what you think you need.” He grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “This is your one chance, your last to run hard and fast.”

  “Don't make me choose.”

  Choose. Such an interesting word choice. Him or her work. Him or her principles. Him and what she really wanted from life—what her actions screamed every time they were together. “You did weeks ago. Accept it.”

  He closed his mouth on hers because he had to. He needed something to get him through the night. Maybe she understood because she kissed him back. He pulled away first. It hurt to, and the walk home would be long as fuck, but he'd broken the stalemate.

  CHAPTER

  11002

  Hours later, Sophie watched the rain pelt the glass sliding door in the kitchen. Her laptop screen had long since gone black from misuse, and her coffee cold. Still she couldn't scare up the urge to sleep.

  How could she when Wade's face haunted her? His features had been a slash of anger and want grooving lines around his mouth. The feel of his lips was the ghost that made her wet and needy.

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth and closed her eyes. When he'd walked away some part of her wanted to cry out, to beg him to touch her, stroke her speechless. She wouldn't be able to tell him to wait or stop. Instead, he'd given her time and fear had closed down her throat tight, not even a croak could escape.

  “What did he do this time?” Cal asked.

  She dropped her h
and and stared at her friend, surprised because she hadn't hear him moving down stairs. She smiled. His hair spiked in all directions. Some men looked sexy-sleep rumpled. Cal slept too wild. God bless any woman who fell in love with him. She'd have to sleep with a helmet.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I could feel your indecision all the way upstairs,” he said dryly. He went to the glass door, cracked it and inhaled deeply. “What I do know is that ever since Angelo you never let a man get close. If the man is lucky, he stays around long enough I get to know their name. But this one has you rattled.”

  She closed her laptop. Sophie could ask how he knew Wade was the one keeping up her up this late. How did he suss out indecision was the root of most of her evils? A pointless question because Wade had been her problem since the day she'd met him.

  How much more did she need to know about him before accepting he wasn't Angelo? Could never be if he tried. When would the fear at being vulnerable, even for a second, stop making a home in her gut?

  “I know he has me rattled,” she said simply.

  His brows went up at the short confession. “We all know. I'm just shocked you're saying it out loud.”

  “It's two o'clock in the morning and I've stopped pretending to work. My actions are screaming to anyone paying attention.” She tugged out the hair band and shook her curls to give her scalp some air. “I just figured at some point tonight I'll scrounge up the courage to go to him, and then I remember he's keeping something from me.”

  Interest lit his face and he notched his head in her direction. “What?”

  “He's...sick.” She didn't know what else to call his illness without a name. “If he doesn't trust me enough to tell me the details...I get that. We had sex once and it's been nothing but a work relationship since. He's not obligated to spill his guts.”

  “But?”

  I want us to be each other's safe place. I want to tell him my every fear, and he'll know he can do the same. Her heart squeezed at the confession, and she couldn't say any of that out loud. “We're not there yet, and I don't know what to do next. If I should do anything until we get there.”

  Cal shook his head and glanced outside. “Take trust out of the equation. Put on your PR hat. What's the most common reason someone keeps a secret?”