Page 17 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

Unsure what to do, I knelt in front of her. She seemed hesitant then, resting her hand on her belly, not moving it lower. My body verged on haywire. Just looking at her this close, naked, was enough for me to combust. Unable to wait or think clearly, I licked my hand and palmed my length, groaning as I gave myself a rough tug.

Maggie made a needy sound, then she was moving too, spreading her thighs, dipping her fingers lower, and dammit. I could see how wet she was. How turned on. She moved her fingers slowly at first, squirming her hips, her eyes locked on my hand pumping up and down my throbbing shaft. I was lost. Totally, completely entranced and addicted to Maggie Edelstein.

More than entranced, I realized in a rush. Love.

I was in love with this confusing girl who kept me at arm’s length, but she also lifted me up when I felt down. She listened to my stresses, made me feel smart and funny and worthwhile—in private, at least. I was pretty sure there was more going on with her than she’d admitted. Other reasons for her different behavior at school. In time, I was sure she’d trust me enough to open up. I’d one day know the joy of kissing Maggie, touching her skin, holding her hand in public.

That night, though, we weren’t allowed to touch. And I didn’t break my word. I fought all my base instincts to kiss her and line up our bodies. Not so we could have sex. Just to feel the hot rush of my skin against hers, my heart beating against hers. I fought those frenzied instincts, but the second she came, arching her back, her legs trembling as she grabbed her breast with her free hand, I came too. Not on the ground as I’d planned. As I should have. I came in a blinding rush all over her moonlit skin, my thighs flexing, her name on my lips—rough, broken, unchecked.

When my soul returned to my body and I opened my eyes, there was no missing how stiff she was. Her gaze was locked on her body, because fuck. My release decorated her skin from her neck down to the intimate red curls I wanted to bury my face in. The sight was beyond erotic, but she’d told me I wasn’t allowed to touch her. She’d set up sexual boundaries, and when a woman sets up sexual boundaries, you do not break them.

I may not have touched her physically, with my hands or body, but I came all over her, which I was pretty sure was miles worse.

She kept looking down at herself, breathing hard. For half a second, I thought I saw desire there. Eroticism in her heavy-lidded gaze, then she blinked. She frowned. A look of sheer panic crossed her face, then she was grabbing her clothes and running off, disappearing into the woods before I could gather myself enough to apologize.

Then lucky me went into witness protection.

Talk about piss-poor timing.

chapter six

Focusing on that amazing yet upsetting memory has somehow slowed my erratic pulse. I’m still trapped in this stalled coffin with the woman I hurt. Doug must have flown to Paris for lunch, because five minutes (or five years) have come and gone. I should be hyperventilating, but my head is on Maggie’s lap. She’s stroking my hair, silence lingering between us as I try to understand what she said. The admission that doesn’t line up with my memory of our last night together. No, you didn’t do anything I didn’t like. Whatever you’ve been stressing about the past eleven years, you have it wrong.

I force a swallow and look up at her, forever confounded by this woman. “You told me not to touch you, and I came all over you. Then you ran off without a word. Of course I’ve been upset over that. I hurt you, Maggie. And hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted.”

Her shoulders drop, her fingers gliding more slowly through my hair. “Lennon…” She trails off and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, there’s fire there—the shark impressionist and dare-taker I fell in love with at nineteen. “To this day, that is the single hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I wanted you so badly back then. You have no idea.”

A hot flush fills my stomach, driving lower. She’s right. I had no idea. I mean, I knew she was attracted to me, enjoyed flirting with me. But this? “Then why’d you run?”

“Do we really need to rehash this?”

“We definitely need to rehash this.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s nice for you, but we’re not teenagers anymore.” I try to look serious, like I mean business, but I’m lying on her lap. I’m pretty sure my sweaty hair is standing up in every direction. “You don’t get to dictate how or when I speak to you any longer.”

She glances at my head, and her lips twitch. Yeah, I for sure look like I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket—pretty much how Maggie makes me feel—but I don’t back down or blink.

She plunks the back of her head against the elevator wall. “I’m sorry about high school. I feel horrible about the way I treated you.”

I would’ve traded my prized mountain bike for that apology in high school. Today, the admission has me feeling edgier. Annoyed, almost. My claustrophobia has clearly usurped my brain. “While I appreciate the apology, you’re deflecting. If you weren’t upset about what happened between us, why’d you run?”

“It’s complicated.”

“As complicated as the time I couldn’t figure out why you were laughing at me, until I discovered a huge booger hanging out of my nose?”

She barks out a laugh, her face overflowing with delight, then she slaps her hand over her mouth.

“That was rude, by the way,” I add, basking in Maggie’s laughter. “Real friends tell friends when they have boogers on their faces.”

She stares up at the elevator ceiling, her lower body softening under my head. “You should’ve seen your face when you realized. Like you thought you were covered in leeches.”

“I was horrifyingly embarrassed. Didn’t want my crush thinking I was unattractive.”

She twirls a strand of my hair around her finger in tantalizing slow spins. “Nothing about you was unattractive to me.”

Well, then. I’ll take more of those truths, thank you very much. More of her fingers playing with my hair, but we need to stay on topic. “I appreciate the compliment, but I’ve gotten better at figuring out complicated things. So, I’ll ask again, if what happened that night didn’t upset you, why’d you run?”