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Part of me wants to leave it there. But I can’t. I think it’s so uncomfortable for both of us to talk about because we are fighting our natural instincts. It felt so right when I was on top of him, his arms around me, our lips molded together, and to stand before each other now and say it was a mistake seems ridiculous … and strange.
“No, we shouldn’t leave it at that. We need to come to an understanding and an agreement for going forward. We crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed, and we have a decision to make,” I say, standing my ground.
“What decision?” Simon asks, stepping into my room, walking closer to me.
His closeness overwhelms me. I can smell whatever he uses for body wash when he showered after working out, and it alerts all my senses that I want to climb this man like a tree. I can feel my nipples tighten and an ache build between my legs. My fingers curl on their own, wanting so badly to fist his T-shirt and pull him to me.
“Where are we going from here? I know you just want to forget, but is this something we can forget? I’m just going to put it out there—I’m attracted to you, and I think you are either attracted to me or lonely, but seeing as how we will still be living together for at least three more weeks, we can’t just ignore this.”
Simon steps closer, and I quell the urge to back up a few steps or even step forward and press myself against him. He really doesn’t need to come any closer. This conversation sounded good in my head, but now that we are in the midst of it, is it going to help anything?
“Attracted or lonely—what a way to put it,” Simon says, smirking, and it raises my hackles.
I’m baring part of myself to him, and he’s making a mockery of my words. He is now close enough to reach out and touch me—and he does, running one finger along my forehead, catching my wayward hair, and tucking it behind one ear. I shiver.
“To answer your question that wasn’t a question, I am attracted to you. Very. But we can’t let it go anywhere. I’m not going to marry you, and once the show is over, you’ll be leaving this house and going home, so getting attached is a very bad idea.”
I hear his words, but I can’t concentrate with his finger still lingering behind my ear, drifting over the delicate skin of my neck. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I only want him to continue down, down, down and never stop touching me.
His finger stills at the base of my neck, and I stay frozen, unsure and wondering what he will do next. My hands itch to wrap themselves around him and pull him to me, but I don’t want to be the wanton hussy. His words and actions confuse me. He’s attracted to me, but this can’t go anywhere? I know I’m playing with fire, wanting something I can’t have, but, man, do I crave it. I want him like a drunk sorority girl wants Taco Bell at two in the morning. I can feel my emotions flash across my chest, making it constrict. Maybe I’m having a panic attack? Or am I just scared of being rejected if I try something?
Before I can do anything, he makes up my mind for me. He drops his hand, the loss jolting me into awareness, and after a long, lingering look between us, he turns and strides for the door without glancing back.
As soon as it shuts behind him, his words come back to me, crashing through my brain and making me finally take notice.
“I’m not going to marry you.”
That sentence makes my stomach clench, and I decide that Simon made the right call, not continuing this. It’s stupid, and it would have been a colossal mistake on both our parts. He doesn’t want me, and I want everything. I deserve someone who can give me that, and if it’s not going to be Simon, I should keep my distance.
I’ll play the part of the devoted nanny, and when my time is up, I’ll get the hell off the show and out of this house. Heart be damned.
