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“No,” she murmured, but her hands were on my chest, fingers curling into my shirt again. And not only was she not pulling away, she was relaxing against me. She wanted to touch me as much as I wanted to touch her. The realization was a relief, an exhale after holding my breath for an entire damn week.
I angled her so I had her pinned between my body and the counter. “Then let me kiss you.”
Her eyes were turbulent again, like the ocean when it was churned up in a storm. “That’s a bad idea.”
“You’re right. Say the word, and I’ll let you go.” It was true, even though my cock was as hard as the marble counter now. If she said the word, I’d walk her out to her car right then. I didn’t want to, but I would, because I wasn’t the kind of man she thought I was.
At my words, her eyes came up sharply to mine, and I realized I had surprised her. She tried, but she couldn’t quite hide the disappointment in them. She didn’t want me to let her go, but she didn’t want to be honest about it either. Another fucking puzzle to figure out.
“Kiss me,” I said again, more insistently this time. It had to be her. I’d taken the first step. I’d broken my word not to touch her. Now she had to take the next step, and she wanted to. I could see it in her eyes, the way her lips were parted, the way her heart was fluttering fast in her chest. But she didn’t.
Unable to handle being close to her another second, I swore and pushed back from the counter. Still too close. I moved through the living room, back toward the balcony. My cock felt like iron in my pants, and I felt the discomfort with every step.
Willow caught up to me at the edge of the balcony. Her eyes were still turbulent, her emotions churned up and choppy. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
From any other woman, it wouldn’t have been much. But from Willow, it was a fucking revelation. Not that she felt the same way I did, but that she would admit it. It wasn’t enough though. “Then do something about it,” I said harshly. “I’m not going to let you just be a passenger, along for the ride, so you can pretend like you didn’t know where it was going.”
Her lower lip was between her teeth again. I didn’t know if it was purposely done to drive me insane, but it was working. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“But you want to?” I repeated, wondering if I’d somehow misheard her the first time.
Willow nodded, an infinitesimal movement that went straight to my ego. She wanted me too. She was willing to admit it, but why wouldn’t she do anything about it? Again, I felt the certainty that she wasn’t what she appeared to be. “Why not?” I murmured, turning to face her fully. “Are you with someone?”
The possibility made white hot jealousy burn through me. Cool relief doused it when she shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Just Camper.”
“Then what is it, Willow?” I wasn’t touching her, but we were leaning so close together that I might as well have been. She shook her head again, opened her mouth and then pressed her lips tightly together, like she’d thought better of whatever she might have said. “Just tell me,” I murmured. “Whoareyou, Willow Laurier?”
Another storm of indecision on her beautiful face, and then, finally, “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you the truth.”
15
WILLOW
Iturned away from Julian, gripping the top of the balcony railing and staring out at the ocean. Throughout dinner, I’d heard its gentle rhythm as the water slapped against itself, whispered across the sand. Now though, I could only hear the roaring in my own head. What was Idoing? I couldn’t really tell him the truth. He’d hate me, and God only knew what the fallout would be between Lewis Productions and Fletcher Films.
And there was also the fact that my father would almost certainly never speak to me again. It felt pathetic to care, but a part of me still did. So even though I wanted Julian’s hands on me, his mouth on mine, to bring to life the fantasies I’d begun having in my bed in the middle of the night, I couldn’t tell him the truth.
Not that one anyway.
There was something I could tell him though. Something I had to tell him if this was going to go any farther.
“I’ve never–”
Julian leaned in, his face intent. His eyes weren’t glittering anymore but focused on mine. Steady. I had the strange feeling that he would be a good listener. Not a characteristic I’d have expected.
“--slept with anyone,” I finally finished, my tongue tripping over itself. It wasn’t an admission I made often, and never to a man like Julian.
Disbelief spread across his face. “Anyone in the industry?” he clarified, trying to make this a concept he could wrap his head around.
“No, anyone anywhere.” Keeping one hand wrapped around the railing for support, I turned to face him. “I’ve never met anyone that I wanted to be with like that.”
Julian’s eyebrows went up as his gaze swept over my body in a frank perusal. He was seeing what everyone did. The long legs, the narrow waist, the curvy hips, the full breasts. The same package that had made Fletcher pursue my mother twenty-six years ago. My spine began to stiffen, but then Julian’s eyes found mine again, and I relaxed. There was something tender in his gaze that I hadn’t expected. A quality that I’dneverassociated with my father.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said quietly.
I half-expected him to tell me that this couldn’t go any further. Being someone’s first was too much responsibility. He’d wanted an uncomplicated roll in the sheets, notthis. When he stayed silent, I forced myself to ask. “Does it change anything?”
Julian’s hand came up to skim my cheek, reminiscent of the first time he touched me in the car. “Maybe it should, but it doesn’t.”
