Headstrong

by Meg Maguire

  “No,” she decided. “Not like I feel harassed or anything.”

  “Good.”

  “But you are intimidating, that way. It’s not your fault,” she added. “You’re sort of naturally…sexual.”

  “I would have said the same thing about you a couple days ago, before I knew better.”

  “Weird. I’m so the opposite. I’m like the frigidity poster child.”

  “Nah, you’re not. You can’t be, not if you’ve been tricking my brother into corrupting you. You’re obviously interested in it. You got burned pretty bad…it’s natural that you’re like this, now.”

  “So, you…you think about me that way?”

  “Can I be honest without getting my head bitten off?” he asked.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Of course I do. All the goddamn time.”

  Libby smiled and sighed, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, I didn’t know you were as…inexperienced as you are. Or this sensitive about it. But I fancied you. Of course I thought about you. I don’t reckon there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “But you knew I liked your brother.”

  “Yeah, and that sucked, let me tell you. But I’m a sexual person, for crying out loud. And you’re the person I happened to most want to have sex with, whether it was a pipe dream or not. So, take that,” Colin said, and nudged her with his shoulder. “I thought all sorts of filthy things about you. But I don’t spend every moment we’re hanging out daydreaming about nailing you. I am actually a good person, you know.”

  “No, I do know. You’re a really, really good person. Sorry. But I hate that a little, you know? I feel so sized up all the time.”

  “Well, you’re bloody good-looking.”

  “It’s not like I dress like a hooker.”

  “No, but you give off a certain vibe.”

  “So do you,” she said.

  “Maybe. And I don’t dress like a rent-boy either, but I get offers. It’s nice. It’s flattering. I don’t get off on it but it feels good, sometimes.”

  “It’s different when you’re a girl,” Libby said irritably.

  Colin nodded. “I’ll bet. But come on, you told me yesterday you’re like that on purpose, to manipulate blokes. Why does it bother you this badly if you claim to be getting so much out of it?”

  “God, I don’t know. I’m sorry… I know I’m not making any sense. It’s just different now, because of Reece. It’s like I can have any guy except the one I want. It’s so frigging frustrating. I want to scream.”

  “Yeah. Sorry I have no idea what that feels like,” Colin said dryly. “And may I point out yet again, you’re after the one you knew from the get-go isn’t into you. It can’t be all that shocking.”

  “I know.”

  “So, you fancy someone who doesn’t fancy you back. Congratulations, you’re a human being. Welcome to our miserable little club.”

  Libby looked back toward the lights of downtown Wellington, their glow having grown distant during the walk. She looked up the streetlight-bathed road that ran in front of them along the shore. She looked to her right, into Colin’s wide-open face. A face that had never failed to look at her that way, since the first night they met.

  He stared back, amused. “Yeah?”

  “Are you in love with me, Colin?”

  He considered it for a split second. “I’m in love toward you, I guess. I love you as much as one person can, without actually being involved with the other. So, yeah. I love you.”

  “Why?”

  He did a little double take. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Libby felt a fresh pain in her chest. Not the lonely sort she’d felt a few minutes earlier. Different. A stab of sweet, fearless sincerity penetrating her heart. She rubbed a befuddled hand over her sternum and looked away.

  “You’re crying again, Libs.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been doing that lately. You know when the last time I cried was? Before I met you and Reece?”

  “When?”

  “When my grandma died, five years ago. And before that, when I was sixteen.”

  “Well, it’s a great skill to have. Really cleans you out.”

  Libby smiled through her tears. “I hate being this transparent.”

  “That’s the one thing you and Reece have in common.”

  She nodded.

  “He’s safely stuck behind the bar until one, you know, if you want to watch a shitty movie or something. And I’ll bet you’ve had enough of frigid men for one evening.”

  “And I always want to watch a shitty movie.”

  Colin grinned. “That’s just one of the many reasons I love you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reece stopped sorting bills in the register as the door swung shut behind his brother and Libby. Colin leaned his bike against the wall and rubbed his bare arms.

  “Where’s your coat?” Reece asked.

  “Left it at the restaurant. Casualty of war.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Reece said, stomach turning. “How did you get on?”

  Libby flapped her hands to express her hopelessness.

  “Don’t ask,” Colin added as confirmation.

  “Oh God. That bad?”

  Colin sighed. “I’ll say this—good luck tomorrow, convincing that jerk-off that Libby’s not wrapped up with ne’er-do-wells.”

  “Shit. What did you do?”

  “I sort of told him off.”

  Reece groaned. “Col…”

  “But I didn’t hit him or threaten him or anything.”

  “You got lippy, though?” Reece asked.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Brilliant. I told you this could only lead to trouble.”

  Colin shrugged, defeated. “I’ve got no regrets.”

  “Brilliant,” Reece repeated.

  “I do what I can,” Colin added, a mixture of sarcasm and apology in his voice. “But trust me, he had it coming. Anyway, we’re going up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Ta,” Reece said, skeptical. “Night, Libby.”

  She raised her eyebrows as though tossing her arms up in surrender.

  Libby leaned against the counter as Colin unwrapped a packet of popcorn. The television was murmuring in the next room, and she’d changed into pajama bottoms. Everything about the moment was so familiar, so easy. After such a disastrous evening, Libby just wanted to wrap this moment around her body like a blanket and fall asleep. She wasn’t sleepy, though. Her body was wide awake, humming with the chemicals left over from the catastrophe at the restaurant.

  Colin opened the microwave and looked to her, his eyes sad and tired, but warm as always. “Doing all right?”

  Libby nodded, studying him. That face with its unhidden emotions, flung wide open like a window. She saw what felt like a lifetime’s worth of memories in that face…the man who sang with her, who embarrassed himself so freely for her. Who risked his neck for her without a thought, who offered everything and asked for nothing. Her heart began to pound and she rubbed the skin above it.

  “Hey, Tiger?”

  Colin hit the Start button and turned to her, crossing his arms. “Yeah, Bigfoot?”

  “You said before that you wouldn’t kiss me.”

  He paused. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Is there any way I can talk you out of it?”

  “Maybe,” he said, looking sheepish. “Probably. Why?”

  “I’d like to know what it’s like. To be kissed by someone who feels for me the way you do.”

  “I thought that scared you. I thought I scare you, that way.”

  “You do. But the alternative was an unprecedented disaster.”

  He took a deep breath. “If I kiss you, it’ll hurt like hell for me afterward.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right… It’s selfish. Like my asking you to come to dinner tonight.” Libby turned away, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. She laughed, though tempt
ed to cry. “I keep hurting you, and I don’t mean to… I don’t understand why you even put up with me. I give you nothing but grief.”

  Colin nodded, thumbs hooked into his pockets. He looked lost in thought for a minute, then stepped close. He took the glass from Libby and set it down. A flash of alarm traced her spine as his hands slid up her arms, taking hold of her shoulders.

  “You don’t have to,” she said, eyes snapping to his mouth as it inched closer.

  Colin ran his tongue across his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He leaned close, pressing his lips against her temple. “Telling you no is something I’ll never be any good at.”

  She shivered. One of his hands moved, cradling the back of her neck, his palm burning hot against her skin.

  “So you better tell me to stop, now,” he whispered.

  She opened her mouth but the word didn’t make it past her throat. His lips slid to her ear, and the deep sounds of his breathing redoubled that old fear.

  “Tell me,” he murmured.

  The microwave dinged and Libby jumped. Colin’s body pressed into hers, and his teeth grazed her neck. The fear surged then evaporated, replaced by excitement.

  “Tell me.” He nipped at her skin. “Say it.”

  She felt her body tighten, curious. She let her fingers find his waist and twine themselves around his belt.

  “Tell me to stop or so help me, I’ll kiss you,” he breathed. His lips took her earlobe, hands holding her tighter.

  “I won’t say it.”

  He brought his face to hers. “No?”

  She shook her head. Something flashed in Colin’s eyes, and his hands settled on her jaw. His mouth was so close she could feel his exhalations warming her lips.

  “Colin,” she said, and he took her.

  This kiss was deep and aggressive and unapologetic, the opposite of cautious. Reckless. He held her head and his tongue slid against hers, bringing that blush she thought she’d forfeited, bringing it hard and fast. This was no lesson. This was need and demand and worship all at once.

  She kissed back. She tasted his mouth and caught his lips with her teeth, angled her head and invited him deeper. When he moaned, her legs trembled. She reached a hand back to grip the island for support. Colin pulled away, releasing her lower lip with a tiny snap. He dropped his hands to his hips and stared into her eyes.

  Libby swallowed. “Whoa.”

  Colin licked his lips, and his gaze darted to her wine glass. “That’s the closest I’ve come to taking a drink in years.”

  “How does it feel?”

  He grinned, wicked. “A bender’s looking pretty bloody tempting right about now.”

  Libby studied his mouth and hands, so possessive just seconds ago. She wanted to know if the rest of him would feel that way too. His strong arms, the weight of his body, the words he might say. She registered the smell of microwave popcorn and knew it would forever be hardwired in her brain now, an unlikely trigger programmed to make her knees shake.

  She reached out and touched Colin’s waist again, smoothing her palms over his sides.

  “What are you thinking, Libby?”

  She kept her eyes on his chest. “I’m not really sure.” She was thinking about that silly nickname she’d given him. It made sense now, looking at his powerful body, seeing that predatory glint in his eye, hearing that growl in his throat. She curled her fingers into claws against his ribs.

  “You want me,” she said.

  “Of course I do. I want you more than any woman I’ve ever met.”

  His sincerity and fierceness made her skin heat.

  “I’d take a bullet in the brain for you,” Colin said. “I’d marry you tonight and give you a house full of obnoxious, leggy children if you wanted it.”

  Libby laughed.

  “I’d put on a suit and tie and get a sedan and a job in a bank the second you asked me to—”

  “God, don’t do that.”

  “Whatever you asked, I’d do it.”

  She nodded. “It should have been you. You, this entire time. And I was too stupid to see it. Or scared.”

  “Scared of what?” he asked.

  “Of…you. Of someone who won’t hold back with me.”

  He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “What would you do if I asked you to take me to your room?”

  “Pinch myself.”

  Her eyes posed the question a second time.

  “I don’t know, Libby. You’d have to just find out. But if I scare you now, think twice before you cut me loose.”

  She nodded and let go of his body. She craned her neck and grabbed the glass from behind her, draining the last of the wine in one gulp as he watched.

  “You want an invitation or an order?” Colin asked.

  She considered it, so sick to death of patience and kind assurances and permission. Sick to death of running away from this fear.

  “Order.”

  His mouth twitched into a smirk. He pressed his body against hers again, lips at her ear. “Get in my fucking bed.”

  She sucked in a fearful breath, but instead of fighting the sensation, Libby let it flow free in her veins, let herself feel it until it transformed into excitement. She slid from between Colin and the counter and walked to his dark room, sitting on the edge of his bed. He followed, shutting the door behind him. She heard footsteps, then the Christmas lights around the window came on, bathing them in a soft glow. There was fire in Colin’s eyes. Hot. So very different than the icy lake of his brother’s steady gaze. He looked down at her and grinned.

  “What are you smirking at?” Libby asked.

  “I have no idea. I don’t know how this is possibly happening.”

  Libby reached out and grabbed his belt, pulling him down next to her. A strong arm pinned her against his chest, their legs tangling, mouths reconnecting. She slipped her hand under his shirt and ran it up his side.

  Colin groaned, and she thrilled at his easy reaction. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Touch me.”

  Damn, it was nice getting ordered around. She pressed her palm hard against his skin, dug her short nails into him. He responded with a thrust of his hips that stroked his arousal against her thigh.

  “Colin.”

  No hesitation. No seeking of assurances. He let her feel him again and didn’t hide his moan.

  Libby shoved at his shoulder until he was lying on his back. Straddling his thighs, she pushed his shirt up over his chest, and he peeled it off for her. Again, like his brother, and yet not. Hard, but accessible. Welcoming. A playground. She touched his belly and traced her fingers up over his heart.

  “Exactly where did you get your body from?” Libby asked, gazing across that tight torso. “The legs and ass makes sense…”

  He smiled. “Sit-ups, I guess. And we’ve got a punching bag in the basement. I wail on that when I’ve had a bad day.”

  “You must have a lot of bad days.”

  “I suppose I did. Until about a month ago.” He watched her hands as they explored him.

  Libby had a minute to play before Colin’s impatience got the better of him. He reached up, and she helped him take her shirt off. His palms ran over her stomach, her breasts, her shoulders.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

  “I’m yours,” she said. “Do what you want.”

  “God, where to start.”

  “I haven’t really done very much,” she reminded him. “But don’t be too gentle with me. I want you how you normally are, in bed. Pretend like I’m any other girl.”

  Colin laughed, shaking his head. “Impossible.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He nodded. He coaxed her to lie next to him, and she luxuriated in his kissing and the feeling of her bare skin against his. She let him take off her bra and cup her small breasts in his broad hands.

  “Turn around,” he breathed.

  She rolled over, and he pulled her back and shoulders against his chest. His hand snaked
around her waist to pull the drawstring of her pajamas free of its bow. She gasped, barely recognizing the sound as her own. She felt his labored breathing in her hair, listened to the muffled sounds of his excitement as he slipped his hand between her legs, touching her through her panties. Her body seized and arched, craving this feeling—the touch of a man who wanted her this badly.

  “I’ve thought about this so many times,” he murmured. His other hand lifted her hair off the back of her neck, replacing it with the graze of his lips and the heat of his breath, the flick of his tongue. His fingers against her flash point made her gasp.

  “I want to know everything you think about, Colin. Tell me.”

  “About this. And about you touching me.” His hand pulled her thigh wider, and his fingers began to rub her, explicit.

  She moaned.

  “I can feel you getting wet for me.”

  Her breath caught again, from the words and the touch and the truth of it.

  “Are you big?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “Is that what you like?”

  “In theory. Are you hard?”

  “You have no bloody idea.”

  “Let me feel you,” she said.

  He took her hand and drew it behind her, between their bodies, cupping it over his jeans against his erection. He grunted and his hips pushed him against her palm. His fingers slipped back between her legs.

  “What do you want me to do to you?” she asked.

  “Any filthy thing you want.”

  His voice so close to her ear gave her the most wonderful goose bumps imaginable. “What do you fantasize about me doing to you?”

  He groaned. “Using me.” He slid his hand under her panties, slid his finger inside her, making her gasp and buck against him.

  “Taking me. In your greedy hands and your mouth and between your legs, right here.” His fingers delved deep. “I fantasize about you tying me down and fucking my brains out.”

  She bucked again, from the shock his words sent through her body. “Even now that you know I have no clue what I’m doing?” she managed to ask.

  “Even more. I want to give you everything you’ve missed.”

  She considered telling him she’d never climaxed but held her tongue. The thought of him trying and failing, thinking his inability to make her come was his shortcoming…that was one pain she could spare this wonderful man.