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It hits me that we’re still standing. While I like the feeling of her hand on me and would prefer for her to continue to forget it’s still there, she shouldn’t be on her feet for this long.
“You look tired,” I blurt.
Her eyes widen, and then there’s a twitch of humor around her mouth. “You know you’re not supposed to say that to a woman, right?”
Shit.
“This is where the nice, mild-mannered act comes in useful. I’ve never been very good at knowing what to say.”
“I like a straight shooter.” She surprises me by bunching my shirt into her hand for a squeeze. For a second, I think she’s going to pull me to her for a kiss—but she releases it and nods back toward the couch. “Watch the movie with me? There’s plenty of room on the couch for both of us.”
She just got done saying she likes a straight shooter…
“Okay,” I say, “but you should probably know that I’m deeply, painfully attracted to you. I have been all along. I’m going to sit in the chair because you made it clear that you don’t think anything else should happen between us, and I’m not sure I can keep my hands to myself.”
ChapterFifteen
Danny
Mira’s breath hitches, her eyes widen, and she searches my face. Or maybe she’s just admiring those glasses she likes so much.
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again. “It’s not often I’m at a loss for words.”
“You’re the one who said it, not me,” I joke. I’m feeling awkward, exposed. Still, I’m not sorry I told her the truth. This draw I feel toward her is becoming harder to hide. Even though I’m someone who’s accustomed to hiding things.
A smile flickers across her face, and then she bites her bottom lip, making me want to capture it in mine and soothe my tongue over it. “I’m attracted to you too,” she says, and even though she doesn’t throw herself at me, something inside of me eases. I’m not in this thing alone. “Veryattracted to you. But we live together, Danny. You saw what it was like with Byron. I don’t want to fall back into that. I can’t. And after I go back to the bar…Our lives are so different.”
“You’re right,” I say, because it’s best to tell the truth whenever possible. “But I’m nothing like Byron.”
“You’renothinglike Byron,” she agrees, biting her lip again. “But what about Daphne? You have feelings for her.”
“Had,” I correct, because it feels like an important point to establish. I’m a bit flabbergasted, honestly. She’s mentioned Daphne several times, but I thought it was because she was trying to push me off on her. I didn’t realize she was bothered by her, that she might even be a little jealous. “I haven’t even seen her for eight years. I don’t remember what she smells like.”
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
I dip my head a little more. “I’m a weird guy. And I’m going to risk freaking you out by telling you that I can’t get your scent out of my head.”
She takes in a slow breath. “But before last week, you were looking forward to seeing her. You thought you might want to get back together with her. And she’s obviously interested in you. She wants to meet you at a bar.Mybar.”
She’s not wrong. That was a story I’d told myself. But I’m telling the truth when I say, “I haven’t thought about her for weeks. To be honest, I’d prefer not to see her at all. It’s just…” I pause, frustrated, because my mind isn’t supplying me with what I have to say to convince her…
I’m not even sure what I want to convince her of, but it feels only right for her to know that I’ve been thinking about her, a lot. And that I want her desperately. There’s something about her that fills me with raw need and makes me irrational.
I wasn’t ever like that with Daphne. I respected her. I appreciated the way her brain worked. I was attracted to her, but it was always very logical.
I swallow, then admit, “I think the only reason I wanted to change Daphne’s mind about me was because of what she said. She knew me as well as anyone, and she thought—”
Mira’s hand is on my shirt again, squeezing, and when I look down into her eyes, there’s ferocity in them. She lifts up as much as she probably can with the crutches and gives me a soft kiss on the chin. “You are not boring or simple, Danny Traeger. You’re the very fucking opposite, and that’s a good thing. The best.”
Need roars through me until it’s so loud it drowns out everything else. I wrap my arm around her back. Her crutches fall to the floor, and the loud smack of them doesn’t make me flinch, because she’s in my arms—and it’s a wonder how much she seems to belong in them. Usually, I’m conscious of a million things—the sounds around me, the feeling of the air against my skin, the light—but it all temporarily goes quiet when I’m holding her, just like in that elevator. My head is bowed to hers, hers lifting up to me, and it’s a moment that really does feel stolen from time. I see the glistening on her lip where she bit it, the tiny pinprick mole above her lip, the hazel galaxies in her eyes.
“I need to kiss you in the light,” I say, and her lips fall open as she tips her head further up. Taking it for that invitation I wanted earlier, I lean in and claim her lips, sucking on the bottom one, because there’s nothing I want so much as to kiss this woman. To mark her as mine. To bring us back to those hours when it was just us and the darkness. But it’s so much better kissing her when I can see her, when she’s substantial and whole and her lips are opening to me, her tongue twining with mine. She puts a hand in my hair, gripping tight, and the slight pain launches the pleasure to a higher level. The need I feel is unimaginable—and so powerful it may consume me alive.
I’m already hard. I feel like I’ve spent the last week and a half hard, off and on. Imagining her in that elevator, in her bath. Imagining us in endless positions together, exploring this ache I’ve been carrying around. I flex my arms around her, bringing her closer, and even though my wrist aches in the stupid plastic wrist guard, no ache could compel me to let her go right now.
My glasses press into her cheek, so I whip them off without thought and throw them in the direction of the side table.
In that moment, I feel like I’m exactly where I want to be, and I wouldn’t change anything. She changes the angle of the kiss, bringing it deeper, and nips my lip, making me smile against her mouth even as I keep kissing her, because it seems terribly important to keep kissing her. Then she arcs closer to me, grinding against where I’m hard for her, and I’m worried I’ll come on the spot, just from the feel of her through our clothes, from the promise of something more.
