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“Wait.” I shift over onto the other cushion, giving her space but taking her hand in mine as I move. I don’t want her to run away, not with this potentially catastrophic bombshell waiting to explode between us. “Can we talk about this? About…whatever you’re feeling?”
She cringes and sticks her tongue out, making a gagging sound that’s much more in line with what I’ve come to expect from this Wonderfully sister. “Gross, no. Please. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to feel it, let alone talk about it. I don’t like hugs or forehead kisses or men helping me take care of my problems.”
“Why not?” I ask, pretty certain those are three of most of my female acquaintance’s favorite things.
She shudders again. “Because. They’re sappy and syrupy and fake. At least most of the time. Most men don’t really want to hug you or help you out. They’re just doing those things long enough to get in your pants.”
I arch what I’m sure is a judgmental brow. “You’ve clearly been dating the wrong men.”
“Have I?” she challenges. “You clearly were hot to get in my pants a few seconds ago. Until I made it clear I’m pretty sure I can’t have casual sex with you. Which is annoying for me, too, by the way. I love casual sex, and you seem like you’d be a lot of fun to fuck and farewell.” She pulls her hand away with a roll of her eyes. “But instead, I had to go ruin everything by getting all gooey inside when you hug me. Who does that? So gross. I’m repulsed by myself.”
“You shouldn’t be repulsed by yourself. I’m certainly not.” I start to put an arm around her shoulders, but her narrowed-eyed glare stops me halfway. Instead, I lift my hands in surrender. “I feel a connection here, too. Obviously, I do. I’m just not up for anything serious at this point, and I don’t know that I ever will be.”
I pull in a breath, deciding it’s time to show a bit of my own soft underbelly. “I was married before I was turned. It was a love match. Catherine and I had known each other since we were children and there was always something special between us.” I press my lips together, fighting for control as an unexpectedly strong wave of emotion swirls through my chest. “The day we were married was the best day of my life. At least until our children were born.” I swallow. “But after I was turned, I couldn’t trust myself around them. The hunger was too new. So…I left. Without even saying goodbye. By the time I learned to control my hunger and returned to our estate, they were dead of consumption. Catherine, June, Elizabeth…and the baby I didn’t know I’d left growing in her belly when I ran away.”
Her expression softens. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating for you. But you didn’t really run away. Not in the cowardly sense. You put distance between you and the people you loved so you wouldn’t hurt them. That was a brave, self-sacrificing thing to do.”
I clench my jaw. “Perhaps. But I still regret the way it ended with my wife every day, and I have no interest in causing anyone that kind of pain ever again. Not myself, or a woman I’m involved with.” I catch her gaze, holding it as I add, “And even if I was ready for that kind of commitment, I wouldn’t want it with a woman who isn’t a vampire or eager to become one. I can’t imagine watching my wife grow old and die while I stay as I am. I can’t and I won’t. It would be too much to bear.”
She nods slowly. “That makes sense, and I can absolutely see where you’re coming from. I wish I could put aside whatever madness is going on with me and promise I’m good with keeping things casual, but…” Her shoulders inch closer to her ears as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “But I don’t think it’s something I can control. When you hold me, I just want to…melt into your chest and stay there forever. It’s crazy and, like I said, not normal for me. Especially considering I still find you super annoying sometimes.”
I smile. “Same. So annoying. You’re basically the worst.”
Her lips twitch. “You’re the worst, you mean. Look at you. You drag me up here to make-out while I’m practically dying of hypothermia.”
“You’re nowhere close to death, but point taken,” I say, nodding toward my private bathroom. “You can dry off in there and I’ll fetch clothes and a hot toddy from downstairs for you, if you like.”
She stands. “No, thanks. I’ll just run back to my room to change. I need to touch up my make-up anyway.”
“You don’t. Your face is beautiful just as it is.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Stop. The new rules of fake love club—we only say nice things to each other when we’re around other people. Same with kissing and hugging and all the other stuff. It’s for the benefit of others, that’s it. When we’re alone, we’re just friends.”
“All right,” I say, a little surprised by the miserable sinking feeling in my stomach. But she’s right. This is for the best. Still, I can’t resist adding, “But if you change your mind about being able to keep things casual, please do let me know. I would love another chance to make you scream my name.”
“Stop,” she says, the word emerging as a laugh as she backs toward the door. “Seriously. You can’t say things like that, either.”
“But you’re so fetching when you come. Adorable really, the way your skin flushes bright pink and your—”
“La la la, not listening,” she says, pressing her hands over her ears until she reaches the door. She drops one hand long enough to wrench it open, shoots me a glare paired with the ghost of a smile, and says, “See you downstairs. You’d better have that hot toddy waiting for me when I get back to the party. I’m going to need some whiskey if I have to put up with cold vampire hands on my butt all night.”
“I’ll keep the groping to a minimum,” I promise, but I don’t vow to keep my hands off her backside completely. I know myself too well. I can behave in private with Blaire, but if we’re touching in public, eventually the temptation of her phenomenal backside will prove too much to resist.
As she disappears through the door, I take another glance at said backside, wishing it were parked on my lap and the rest of her in my arms. But this is for the best. Like so many things that feel good, getting in any deeper with Blaire would be bad news. For both of us.
It’s wise that we’ve drawn lines to separate fantasy from reality, especially now that she and Annie will be staying with us. As disappointed as I am that I’ll never have her thighs wrapped around my face again, eliminating the distraction of our mutual attraction will make it easier to concentrate on our marriage ending mission.
This is going to be good.
Better than good.
So why do I want to throw my paperweight through the window?
Chapter Sixteen
Blaire
I’m fighting tears as I dry off and change into my only other clean pair of jeans and a much less sexy sweater, but by the time I’ve smoothed fresh curl cream through my hair and touched up my makeup, I’m back in control.
