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He frowns. “D, what are we doing here?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I slump forward against the counter. All my planning and this is where it ends.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, placing his glass on the counter and standing up like he might.
“No,” I rush to say. No, it can’t end here, even if my legs have turned to jelly.
He huffs out a breath. “Good. I don’t want to go. But you need to talk to me.” His voice is gentle, soothing my jangled nerves.
My heart races at the scrape of the stool against the wooden floor as he pushes further away from the counter. I gulp as he takes the few steps required to join me on my side. He stands close, forcing my head up. I breathe him in, his scent so familiar I could find him in the dark.
He reaches out, and his hands come to rest lightly on my bare shoulders. I shiver with his touch. My skin feels hypersensitive. My nerves are replaced by a need for more.
“You take my breath away, Dana. You always have.” His voice is a low, deep murmur, a warm caress of my senses. “You know I didn’t come in to drink water or talk about the weather.”
I nod. This is where I believed and hoped tonight was headed, a shift in our friendship to something more. Warmth flows through my body, a tingling river of sensation fueled by hope, but still, I need him to say it.
“What did you come for?”
Too many times I thought we’d reached this point, only to be disappointed. In hindsight, it wasn’t the right time, and we wouldn’t have worked. But I’ve come a long way this year. Actually, I’ve come a long way this evening—walking into the ballroom in my revealing dress was huge. Boldly bidding on Jason in the silent auction even bigger. I’m stronger thanks to all those hours of therapy.
I steady my breathing, ready to hear exactly what he wants.
“Dana, this chemistry between us could be so much more than just friends.”
I let the words sink in. Both of us could be accused of overusing the phrase, just friends. I haven’t felt the truth behind that statement for so long now that I’m tired of playing along.
“Am I wrong, or do you agree? Talk to me, D,” he encourages.
It’s time to lay it all on the line. One deep breath in, and my truth is revealed. “I haven’t had sex for eight years.” My voice is soft on the release of air, but I straighten my shoulders, determined to not feel the shame that has plagued me more recently. What well-adjusted, single thirty-two-year-old woman abstains from sex for eight years? No one, unless it’s for cultural or religious reasons. I’m a screwed-up freak. Or more accurately, I was, because I’m hoping that changes tonight.
“Eight months isn’t that long,” he says, not having heard me clearly.
“No, Jase, eight years.” This time there’s no missing the words, and it’s impossible not to see the surprise on his face. Maybe I kept my problems hidden better than I thought.
Seeming to realize that shock was not the right response to my revelation, he gives his head a shake. “Sorry, you surprised me. Why?”
Why is such a tiny, simple three-letter word, but in my case, it’s loaded with massive significance.
Chapter ten
Jason
“Why?” bursts out of my mouth, sounding harsh and insensitive. I can see how hard it was for Dana to admit her extended period of celibacy to me, and I feel like a dick for reacting badly.
“Sorry, it’s okay. You don’t need to say any more if you don’t want to.” I rub my hands lightly up and down the outside of her arms.
Her brow wrinkles. “Punishment, I guess,” she admits, and now I’m completely confused. Punishment for what? But I manage to keep my mouth shut this time, and she continues. “After Jack died, I went a bit wild.” She drops her head to my chest. “It was like I was numb. Nothing mattered, and I did stupid, extreme things.”
It’s so hard to imagine this when I’ve only ever known her as hard working and sensible.
“I drank too much alcohol and took too many risks. How I managed to keep up with my studies was a miracle. And in no small part thanks to my brother’s friends.” She glances up at me, and I smile at her reassuringly. “Unfortunately, after I graduated, they were no longer there to make sure I got home safely. I met a guy …” She hesitates for a moment. “He took advantage of my situation and hurt me.”
“What the fuck? How?”
She flinches, startled by my harsh tone.
“Sorry,” I mumble, then more calmly demand, “How did he hurt you?”
