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He inclined his head and forced the temper down. She'd insulted him and he could feel the pain of her reluctance through to his core. It was humiliating being on the receiving end of a woman who wasn’t into him, especially one he was so in love with. He’d tried to shake it over the years, telling himself that it was just a childish crush.
The years had passed and the crush had blossomed into something so potent and powerful he’d been unable to control it. Even distance hadn’t changed his feelings. Now, he was faced with touching her, making love to her, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to show his hand.
He knew it would freak her out and possibly drive her away. He was going to have to be extremely careful and pretend this was a duty for him to perform.
"We could go into the living room or -"
"Just get on with it." He intervened crisply. "Like you said."
"Fine." With a careless shrug, she resumed eating her meal in silence.
They were both nervous and trying not to show it. Macayla had never been in a situation like this before. The two relationships she'd had previously had been casual, no strings attached deals. She’d made that plain from the beginning.
She wasn’t looking for a partner, just someone to hang out with when she needed to take a break from her writing. She didn’t have friends because she considered herself a loner.
She’d had the freedom before her success as a writer to go wherever she pleased and do whatever she wanted. Her parents had been wealthy, her mother making tons of money from her modeling and then as an actress.
She’d traveled the world and backpacked in Europe when she was in her first year of college. Writing fascinated and fulfilled her, unlike sex with the two men she’d been with.
She didn’t want to be in love because she considered the emotion too messy. She’d seen what it did to her parents. Now, she was faced with this thing she was compelled to do because of an obligation to her mother.
"Here?" She gestured to the small living room with the fire blazing inside the hearth.
"Why the hell not?" Brady was trying for confidence and hoped he was achieving it.
"Can the attitude, will you?"
"Now you’re going to dictate to me?" He gave her an amused, insolent look as he dragged his sweater off. "How I should feel?"
"If we’re going to do this, we need to have a better frame of mind." She dragged her sweater off and sent heat straight through him. Her breasts were small, the nipples full and round and she hadn’t bothered with a bra. How the hell had he missed that. His throat was dry and he was hard as a rock.
"Yes." He was at a loss for words and fumbling with the zipper of his denims.
"Good." With a decisive nod, she turned her back to wriggle out of her leggings, giving him an enticing and breathtaking view of her firm buttocks encased in black lace. Averting his gaze, he took off his denims, sitting on the edge of the sofa to get rid of his socks.
Picking up the blankets on the sofa, he spread it near to the hearth where the fire was crackling. Next, he went to get the cushions, stopping short when he saw her already spread out on the blanket.
"You’re ready then?" He had to clear his throat for the words to make sense. She’d taken her underwear off and was completely naked.
"I guess I am." She took the cushions from him and put them behind her head. "Shall we?"
Her voice sounded cool as if she was agreeing to have a meal. He had no idea what it was taking her to appear unaffected. Brady Randall was an impressive guy when clothed. Naked, he was magnificent.
All golden and rippling with muscles, not bulging, but lean and well-toned as if he worked out a lot. His chest was wide, as were his shoulders and his stomach wash board flat.
"I take it you haven’t got any diseases?"
His eyes flared. "I had my physical two weeks ago. How about you?"
"Had my regular check a week ago, so I guess we’re good."
"I guess we are."
"What now?"
"Am I allowed to kiss you?"
"No."
