?
“Didn’t we already have that deal?” Ellie asked.
His sister’s face faded, but not the guilt. “Yes. No. Dammit.”
If she tried to hide her smile, she did a sorry job of it. Thank God she didn’t see him for what he was. What he’d been for too damn long to ever change.
He’d failed his sister. He had no right to be happy while she lay in a box in the ground, but he shoved away those thoughts. He’d been given Ellie. A day, maybe two. He could borrow that much happiness, couldn’t he? He didn’t have to deserve it.
He already had it.
He snagged her hand. Pulled her in. Kissed her. Felt it to his toes, and should have known right then and there he was in over his head, but probably didn’t care. It had been too long since someone had walked into his life—all smiles and sunshine—and made him want to bask in anything but guilt.
Only… He broke free, immediately feeling the loss. He took a few steps back before he lost it. “We absolutely do not have that deal.”
She looked at him. Confused. Maybe a little hurt.
Asshole . “What I mean by that is I don’t want you with me because you feel like you have to be.”
His response appeared to only amplify her bewilderment. “Why would I think that?”
“You may have mentioned blackmail as a factor.”
Caution broke into a grin. “And then I mentioned Rome.”
Her breasts drew his eyes. Why the fuck wasn’t she wearing a bra? That sweater of hers was tight knit, loose, but thin. He’d need a straitjacket if those nipples didn’t retract. “Rome is most certainly not going to happen because of blackmail.”
Humor glinting in her eyes, she asked, “What if I just kind of tolerate you because I want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Rome?”
He leaned back against the wall and kicked one foot over the other. “Just kind of tolerate me, huh?”
She blushed, but she didn’t look down. Not this time.
He made her nervous. He liked that. Really liked it. Wished she’d do to him what she was doing to her bottom lip, but if she closed her eyes it would kill him. He needed her looking at him like that.
“I might be willing,” she said, edging closer. Or maybe edging for the door. Her nipples were about to poke holes through her sweater. He thought about offering to warm them up for her, but that was for later.
If this was to be the best damned day of his life, that was.
“Good.” He reached out and stuck his finger under the hem of her sweater, tugging gently until she obliged his unspoken request. Until mere inches separated them. With him leaning on the wall, his feet stretched between hers, the difference in their heights evened out. He had an unobstructed view of her eyes. Light brown and flecked with color, they reminded him of the desert.
But the desert had never been as beautiful as that.
He cupped the back of her head. Curled his fingers through the long, loose waves that matched her eyes and drew her mouth to his.
She didn’t resist. The relief that sweltered through him was short-lived, quickly flamed out by an all-consuming need to taste the rest of her. But he held back. Didn’t want to scare her, to see distrust in her eyes.
He slanted his head. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he mourned that until she met him in the kiss. Soft and sweet, nothing had ever sounded better than the tiny sounds of contentment she whispered as he made her his, deepening the contact, savoring the gift. By the time they took a breath she was, for all practical purposes, in his lap, her legs straddling his, his hand still caught up in her sweater. He unwound from the loose hold and reached beneath the fabric. Traced his fingertips against her stomach—not too high, not too low—and enjoyed the quick breath she drew. He kept her gaze. Loved that she didn’t seem anxious to look away.
He slipped his hand to her back, his arm still under her shirt, both of them under the same spell. She took the cue and fell into him, soft as
“Didn’t we already have that deal?” Ellie asked.
His sister’s face faded, but not the guilt. “Yes. No. Dammit.”
If she tried to hide her smile, she did a sorry job of it. Thank God she didn’t see him for what he was. What he’d been for too damn long to ever change.
He’d failed his sister. He had no right to be happy while she lay in a box in the ground, but he shoved away those thoughts. He’d been given Ellie. A day, maybe two. He could borrow that much happiness, couldn’t he? He didn’t have to deserve it.
He already had it.
He snagged her hand. Pulled her in. Kissed her. Felt it to his toes, and should have known right then and there he was in over his head, but probably didn’t care. It had been too long since someone had walked into his life—all smiles and sunshine—and made him want to bask in anything but guilt.
Only… He broke free, immediately feeling the loss. He took a few steps back before he lost it. “We absolutely do not have that deal.”
She looked at him. Confused. Maybe a little hurt.
Asshole . “What I mean by that is I don’t want you with me because you feel like you have to be.”
His response appeared to only amplify her bewilderment. “Why would I think that?”
“You may have mentioned blackmail as a factor.”
Caution broke into a grin. “And then I mentioned Rome.”
Her breasts drew his eyes. Why the fuck wasn’t she wearing a bra? That sweater of hers was tight knit, loose, but thin. He’d need a straitjacket if those nipples didn’t retract. “Rome is most certainly not going to happen because of blackmail.”
Humor glinting in her eyes, she asked, “What if I just kind of tolerate you because I want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Rome?”
He leaned back against the wall and kicked one foot over the other. “Just kind of tolerate me, huh?”
She blushed, but she didn’t look down. Not this time.
He made her nervous. He liked that. Really liked it. Wished she’d do to him what she was doing to her bottom lip, but if she closed her eyes it would kill him. He needed her looking at him like that.
“I might be willing,” she said, edging closer. Or maybe edging for the door. Her nipples were about to poke holes through her sweater. He thought about offering to warm them up for her, but that was for later.
If this was to be the best damned day of his life, that was.
“Good.” He reached out and stuck his finger under the hem of her sweater, tugging gently until she obliged his unspoken request. Until mere inches separated them. With him leaning on the wall, his feet stretched between hers, the difference in their heights evened out. He had an unobstructed view of her eyes. Light brown and flecked with color, they reminded him of the desert.
But the desert had never been as beautiful as that.
He cupped the back of her head. Curled his fingers through the long, loose waves that matched her eyes and drew her mouth to his.
She didn’t resist. The relief that sweltered through him was short-lived, quickly flamed out by an all-consuming need to taste the rest of her. But he held back. Didn’t want to scare her, to see distrust in her eyes.
He slanted his head. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he mourned that until she met him in the kiss. Soft and sweet, nothing had ever sounded better than the tiny sounds of contentment she whispered as he made her his, deepening the contact, savoring the gift. By the time they took a breath she was, for all practical purposes, in his lap, her legs straddling his, his hand still caught up in her sweater. He unwound from the loose hold and reached beneath the fabric. Traced his fingertips against her stomach—not too high, not too low—and enjoyed the quick breath she drew. He kept her gaze. Loved that she didn’t seem anxious to look away.
He slipped his hand to her back, his arm still under her shirt, both of them under the same spell. She took the cue and fell into him, soft as
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