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“No need to apologize,” he whispers, the words kissing my skin like a breath of air. “I’m the one who needs to apologize.”
I quickly avert my eyes, not really knowing what I should say or do. Who would have thought? Me, Harper Grayson, unable to find words for probably the first time in my life.
“Will you hear me out?” he asks softly.
Part of me wants to say no. Run away. Hide from the apology.
But the other part – the bigger part that sings to my soul and has my panties already wet – really wants to know what he has to say. In fact, I need the answers. I don’t say anything, but nod my head.
He places his hand on my lower back and guides me to the bench. The feel of his hand on my skin, burning me through the thin material, has my body going haywire with need. It’s been almost three weeks since he’s touched me, and dammit, if I haven’t craved his touch.
Latham waits until I’m seated before sitting next to me. He keeps a respectable distance between us, even though I’d rather have the touch. I don’t move, though. I’ll have a clearer head if he’s not touching me, and I don’t need the distraction his touch evokes.
“You look beautiful,” he finally whispers, raising his hand and setting it on the side of my face. His warm palm soothes my soul and brings tears to my eyes.
I shake away the emotions. “You were saying?”
He sighs and drops his hand, but only to take mine. Latham sets our joined hands on this thigh and takes a deep breath. “I fucked up. Bad.”
I sit back and wait. Wait for the moment he confirms what I suspected: he was using me.
“I lied to you, but not with my words. I lied by omission.”
That has my attention.
“The day I installed your new computer system was the day I overheard you and Free talking about the building next door. I had just come back from my realtor’s office a few days before and was told I was the only one who knew about the building being for sale. So when I overheard you and Free making plans, I was confused. And a little upset. I thought the deal was as good as done, but all of a sudden, it wasn’t.
“I should have told you I was bidding against you, but we were barely tolerating each other then, and I couldn’t see past that. You drove me absolutely crazy, but only because I wanted you so fucking bad that it hurt.”
I look into his eyes, gauging his sincerity, and find nothing but honesty.
“Even when I wanted to fucking kill you, I wanted you more than I needed my next breath,” he continues, the hint of a smile on his lips.
My hands start to shake a little at his admission, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just holds them tighter, gently rubbing circles over the tops of them.
“When we were lying in bed that last night and you confessed what happened in New York, I knew I needed to come clean about the building. Even if I lost it, I was more afraid to lose you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I asked, interrupting.
He sighs deeply and closes his eyes for a second. “Because I was stupid. I was planning to tell you when we got home from the cookout. I got a call from Pete while we were there and found out I had won the bid. I knew I needed to tell you, before your realtor could give you the bad news. Unfortunately, she was quicker than I was.”
I hold his gaze and ask the question that has been burning in my mind for nearly three weeks. “Were you sleeping with me for information?” I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing as I wait for his answer.
“No. Absolutely not. I was sleeping with you because I had fallen in love with you.”
My eyes widen at his confession.
“No, cancel that, it’s not entirely true. I was sleeping with you because I have been in love with you since high school.” He blurs in front of me and I realize it’s because of tears. “That was the only reason I was sleeping with you, Sweetheart. Not to get information. Not to get a leg up on the building. Not because I needed to scratch some itch. Because I was in love with you and it was the only way I could tell you.”
His finger swipes at a tear that trails down my cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” I ask with a sniffle.
He laughs, but it lacks humor. “Well, I tried, but you kept cutting me off. But the short of it is, I was an idiot. I knew you were pissed, and rightfully so. Somewhere in my stupid, pea brain, I thought it would be better to have that conversation in private, after you’d calmed down so when you kept cutting me off, I just shut up.”
I gape at him. “So you just let me think and believe you were sleeping with me for intel?”
“I’ve already admitted to being an idiot, Harper. It was the wrong thing to do, I know. I should have tried harder to come clean and confess right there, but I didn’t. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and I panicked. I tried to get in touch with you after so we could talk, but you wouldn’t answer. That’s when I realized I had truly fucked it all up.”
Glancing down, I confess, “I was too hurt to talk to you.”
