Page 57 of Love Unspoken

I took my finger off her lips. She took a deep breath. "Don't you dare insult my intelligence and tell me after some soul searching you found out I'm your type."

I smiled. "You say you're afraid of confrontation, but you challenge me just fine. At work, you did that professionally. In private situations, you have no problem telling me to go fuck myself."

"I've never said that to you," she gasped.

"Not in as many words. But when I tried to apologize for when Ann was rude to you, you didn't accept my apology and basically asked me to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Right now, you're happily telling me that if I tell you you're my type, I'm full of shit." I filled her glass and mine with more wine.

She seemed to consider what I said and then nodded. "I'm only like that with people I…."

"People, you what?"

She sighed. "People I trust. Like Darren and my father. I don't even do that with Nolan. Kara pushes my buttons and sometimes I say something but…I'm never rude. I don't want to be the kind of person who hurts others."

"Baby, you could never hurt anyone. There is too much good in you." I brushed my lips against hers.

"Can you please stop doing that?" she urged.

"Why?"

"Because…I'm not…we're not…."

I loved to see her flustered like this because then she wasn't looking away from me anymore; she wasn't staring at my shoes or hers; she was standing up to me, and it was fucking awesome.

"I thought about who my type was," I continued, stressing each word, "and found that it isn't a woman who's only good-looking. I actually don't even think a lot of the women I dated were great-looking. It wasn't women who were confident either. Because I thought that's what I liked about Ann. It wasn't even women who were smart because I've dated some…well, let's just say some of the women I've been with were not the sharpest pencils in the box. My type, I realized, was convenient. I dated and slept with women who didn't take up my time. They didn't disrupt my life. They adjusted to my schedule."

She cocked an eyebrow. "That's arrogant."

"Maybe. But these women were fine with it. I thought that I didn't want a woman to change my life—what I didn't realize is that when I met the right woman, I would want to change my life. I would want to make time for her because I enjoy it so much. I would want to do things for her because it makes her smile." I stroked her cheek with a finger.

"What else did you realize?" Her voice was low, breathless.

"My type is a woman who wants me, not Amias Westbrook, the youngest Westbrook or the CEO of Midas, or whatever the fuck else people think I am. I want a woman to take my good, bad, and ugly—and still want me. I want a woman who is kind. That's important for me because I don't want to have kids with a woman who is like my mother. I want a woman who is generous with her heart and will take care of mine." I smiled at her and continued to touch her face, loving that she was letting me.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"I don't like dressing up. I don't like what I'm wearing. I'm not comfortable with it. I…just…Darren got this for me last Christmas and said that I should wear it once I was done mourning my father, and…this is not me."

I sat back and pondered how what she said was connected to what I'd told her. Once I understood what she was trying to tell me in her own convoluted way, I replied, "Then put on something comfortable. I don't give a shit."

"But you think I have terrible fashion sense," she threw back at me.

"Ann has great fashion sense, and she's a complete bitch. Also, I don't give a fuck about what you wear or don't wear. You are what matters, not your clothes."

She rolled her eyes. "That sounds like a line coming from you. I don't believe you."

I smiled.

"What?" she demanded.

"For someone who doesn't like confrontation, you have no problem voicing your opinion to me. Is that because you trust me?"

She drank some wine and closed her eyes, shaking her head. She looked fucking adorable.

"I want to explore a relationship with you," I said huskily.

Her eyes snapped open. "Why?"

"For crying out loud, Naya, I just told you why."