He’d been so proud of her poise, her willingness to advocate for herself, the renewed confidence shining from her brown eyes. Proud of her and starving for her, the knowledge of their brief remaining time together beating against the inside of his skull like a jackhammer.
Even if a million cameras had been trained on them, he couldn’t have stopped himself from reaching for her. If they’d been within a mile of privacy, rather than surrounded by cameras and mics and a television crew, he didn’t know whether he could have resisted inching her skirt up herthighs, sliding his hand between her legs, and finding out once and for all what sounds she made when she came. How her sex would quiver and tighten around his fingers. Whether he could push her into a second orgasm with his tongue.
Even with all those onlookers, he’d already learned too much.
Lucy tasted even sweeter than he’d imagined, burned even hotter than he’d dreamed.
How could he go back to pretending? How could he keep acting as if the thought of her imminent departure didn’t flay him alive? But how could he bare all his need, all his desperation, after over a decade of concealing both?
Even though she was looking out the window, seemingly unaware of him and his swirling thoughts, she stretched out an arm, and her hand landed on his thigh. He almost drove off the road.
Fuck, he wanted her. More than anything else in his world.
So he’d follow her lead. Let her guide what happened next. But no matter what happened between them, he’d maintain his control. He’d let her go without her knowing how much he wanted her to stay. He’d preserve some small, scared portion of himself.
He’d let her bare her soul, while continuing to hide his.
As he’d always understood, she was so much braver than him.
When they pulled into his garage, he swallowed over a dry throat. “What are your plans for the night?”
Not a statement of his desires. A question, one that might lead her out onto that emotional ledge where he was waiting, although she didn’t know it. Would never know it.
New surety glowed in her expression. “The same as yours.”
“Ah.” He unbuckled his seat belt and fiddled with his garage door opener. Anything to disguise his trembling fingers. “Care to elaborate?”
She freed herself from her own belt. “We have to take care of our four-legged family. Hairy needs a good walk, good food, and a good petting. Kitty probably needs a break from his incessant adoration.”
“And then?”
“Then I have to check for work messages. I’m expecting a text or voicemail from that grumpy colonial woman, and I want to get back to her as quickly as possible. I figure you might need to answer a few work messages too.”
He inclined his head. “And after that?”
“If we’re hungry, we eat.”
Food didn’t compare to the prospect of her spread naked beneath him. Nothing did.
“And if we’re not?”
She traced a line up his leg with a single fingertip, and he let out a shaky breath. This time, she didn’t stop at his thigh. Her fingers closed over his jeans-clad erection, her palm providing sweet, teasing pressure, and he wrote lines of code in his head, frantic and struggling to stay in control.
Even in the dimness of the garage, her smile shone. “We figure out whether we’re as compatible in bed as we are outside of it.”
There. There it was. And he’d earned it without having to commit himself, even once.
But he had to ask. “Is that really what you want?”
“Of course.” Her confident smile faded. “Isn’t it what you want too?”
He couldn’t answer that. Wouldn’t. So instead of using words, he reached across the front seat, hauled her into his lap, and kissed her until she’d forgotten her question.
When he let her go, they were both panting.
Rubbing her nose against his, she breathed, “Let’s take care of our pets and work.”
She climbed off his lap, her hiked-up skirt giving him a glimpse of…something. Something shadowy and wholly unexpected, despite his recent speculation. Holy Jesus, did she really not wearanyunderwear?
