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Because while Coop’s attitude to their child had become everything she could have hoped for, the euphoria of that day a week ago, when she’d been sure they were beginning to form a more tangible bond between the two of them, had faded considerably.
‘I want them to like me,’ she murmured, not quite able to keep the resentment out of her voice. She’d tried in the last week to make him understand this was important to her. And he’d resolutely refused to even meet her halfway, ignoring or deflecting her repeated requests to introduce her to anyone he knew. Just as he’d continually ignored her suggestions that she should book her flight home soon.
So here they were, on the evening of his friend’s wedding, and she had no idea where she stood, not just with his friends but with him too. ‘I would have preferred to at least have met some of them.’
‘You already met a few of them at the Runner on our first night,’ he said, in a familiar argument.
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sp; ‘That was four months ago!’ she replied, her patience straining. ‘And I hardly talked to any of them.’
‘Quit panicking—they’re going to love you,’ he murmured, dismissing her concerns again. Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘You know what you need?’
‘A Valium, maybe?’ she said, only half joking.
‘Nuh-uh.’ One warm palm settled on her leg and then skimmed up under her dress, to cup her buttock. ‘I’ve got a better way to help you unwind.’
His thumb sneaked under the leg of her panties, making the pulse of heat flare, as it always did. She grasped his wrist and halted the exploration—determined not to be sidetracked again. ‘Stop it, Coop. We haven’t got time.’
His lips curved. ‘Sure we have.’ Dropping his head, he kissed the pulse point in her neck, the one place he knew from experience would drive her wild. ‘You’re just kind of uptight. This’ll help.’
‘No, it won’t,’ she said, but the protest trailed off as he cupped her, the heel of his palm rubbing the bundle of nerves and giving them the friction they craved.
‘We can’t...’ She gasped, blindsided by the inevitable swelling in her sex, the rush of moisture, as one thick finger snuck past the gusset of her panties and slid over her yearning clitoris. ‘I don’t have time to shower again.’
‘Then don’t.’ His clever fingers played with the swollen nub. ‘I love you with that just-screwed look.’
The words registered through the haze of heat, and her temper flared. Flattening her palms against his chest, she shoved him back, shaking with frustration—and no small amount of fury. ‘Get off me. How old are you, for goodness’ sake?’
‘What the hell are you so mad about?’ He looked genuinely nonplussed. ‘You want to—you know you do.’
Given that his fingers were slick, he probably thought he had a point, which only made her more mad.
Feeling the threat of tears stealing over her lids, she pushed him aside to storm out of the bathroom.
‘Damn it, Ella! What the hell did I do?’
She swung round, slapping her hands on her hips, desperate to keep the anger front and centre to disguise her hurt.
‘I’ll tell you what you did. You never once took my feelings into account about this. If I’m nervous and uptight it’s because I didn’t want to go to this event not knowing anyone. I realise we’re not a couple, not really, but I thought...’ She blinked furiously.
She had thought what exactly? That they were a couple, that there had been something developing between them in the last few weeks that had nothing to do with their child. But how could she know that, when he was so determined to avoid anything even resembling a serious conversation?
‘Of course, we’re a couple,’ he said grumpily, making the stab of uncertainty under her breastbone sharpen. ‘We’re going to this damn fiasco together, aren’t we? But I still don’t see why we can’t make love now if we both want to.’
Because we wouldn’t be making love. Or at least, you wouldn’t be.
The anger and frustration collapsed inside her, consumed by anxiety. She’d leapt over the cliff days ago convinced that he would catch her. But had she jumped too soon, reading far more into his actions than was actually there?
‘The reason we can’t make love...’ she spoke the words slowly, succinctly, willing herself not to let an ounce of her distress show ‘...is because we don’t have the time. And I’d really rather not turn up at this wedding smelling like some woman you’ve just screwed.’
He swore, his expression hardening, and she thanked God for it. She’d rather deal with his temper now than risk letting him see the emotion beneath.
‘That’s not what I meant and you damn well know it.’
She sighed, starting to feel shaky and knowing she couldn’t maintain this façade for long. ‘I think we should just go, I’m sure it’ll be better once I get there.’
He raked his hand through his hair, the temper disappearing as quickly as it had come—as it always did with Coop.
