I wait, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks and let me off the hook, but when he continues to stare at me, I sigh. Apparently he’s not willing to make this easy on me. “I totally appreciate your willingness to help me out. It’s really great of you. But I understand you’re not attracted enough to me to…um…consummate our friendship.”
This had to be one of the top five most embarrassing moments in my life. I contemplate calling a real estate agent tomorrow. The housing market is better than it has been, but it’s still not great. Who knows how long I’ll be stuck with him as a neighbor. I take a deep breath. I’ll survive. It’s only rejection, not the end of the world. I’ll recover from my mortification and bruised ego. Sure it might take a hundred years, but I will recover. It’s got to be character building, right?
“Not want you?” His lips firm into a hard line. “How in the hell could you think I don’t want you?”
How could I think he did? He’s barely spoken since we left the house, which I point out. “Well…um…you’ve been kind of sullen since you kissed me.”
His face smooths over. “Ah, I see.”
“Yes, well, I’m letting you off the hook.” I try for a smile but fear it fails miserably.
He moves to the center of the booth and crooks a finger. “Come over here.”
“What?” I stare at him, totally confused.
“Come here. Now.” His voice is a hard I-mean-business command.
I blink as butterflies take flight in my stomach. What is it about that highhanded tone that gets to me? I’ll analyze it later. Right now I have to get through this torture. I wave a hand. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll survive, I promise.”
One dark brow rises. “Are you going to make me come get you? Because, I warn you, in my current state that’s not a good idea.”
I’m completely lost about what’s going on here. See, I haven’t dated in too long because I clearly don’t know how to read him. I search his expression for any clue to his thoughts. All I see is hard-eyed determination. I bite my bottom lip, flipping through various possibilities and finally settle on the most likely.
He wants to comfort me. Well, okay, I’ll let him and get it over with. He obviously has a hero complex.
Carefully, I scoot next to him. His strong thigh presses against my bare leg, the fabric of his black dress pants rubbing against my oversensitive skin.
I ignore the attraction and focus on preparing for the sympathy coming my way.
Arm sliding along the back of the booth, he leans in close enough I smell his aftershave. A mixture of man and spices that would have been intoxicating if it weren’t for the circumstances. Warm breath falls over the shell of my ear and I can’t quite repress the shiver. A pang of loss fills my chest, and I let it wash over me.
I still have some tequila left; I can drown my sorrows and start anew tomorrow. I close my eyes, it’s okay to be sad for tonight.
Someday I’ll find another guy who makes me melt. Someday I’ll—
“That was about the hottest kiss I’ve ever had.”
At his words, my lids snap open. What did he say? I must have heard wrong.
“Despite what you think,” he continues in a low rumble. “I don’t normally have a hard time not fucking my dates before I even take them to dinner.”
Oh. So… I’m wrong? My mood instantly lightens. A hot flush fans out over my chest, crawls up my neck before splashing over my cheeks.
“But damn if I didn’t have a hell of a time resisting you.” He picks up a lock of my hair, letting the strands fall between his fingers. A rush of tingles travels down my back.
I stare at the white tablecloth, at a loss for what to say.
“Look at me, Abby.” His voice is a soft glance over my skin.
I comply because I feel powerless not to.
He smiles as he continues to play with my hair, his fingers brushing distractedly across my skin. “I’m sorry about the car. I didn’t stop to think of how you’d perceive it. The truth is I spent the ride trying to muster all my self-control so I didn’t jump you between the house and the restaurant.”
Lukas Marlow considers me desirable? Is having a hard time resisting me? But no one ever has a hard time resisting me. I can’t quite believe it. I have to know, have to be sure. In a soft whisper I ask, “So you’re not just being nice?”
He chuckles, a low, lazy sound that sends a jolt of excitement through me. “If you had even an inkling of all the kinky things I’ve been thinking about doing to you, that would be the last question on your mind.”
Hope, and what might be a tiny seedling of sexual confidence, blooms in my chest. I know it sounds ridiculous. It’s not that I have low self-esteem, I don’t. I just consider myself brutally realistic. Growing up with a sister like Eden, who’s jaw-droppingly beautiful, I had to be. I’m not the pretty one. I’m the smart one. A fact reaffirmed to me my entire life. Don’t feel sorry for me though, it’s good to be a brain. It never fails me and it will last me long after beauty fades away. Only, I can’t pretend, it’s nice not to feel mousy, to feel like I am sexy enough to test Lukas’s control, if even for a brief moment in time.