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“Well, like you said, I bring out the worst in you so we’ll just chalk it up to that.” I don’t mean for it to sound condescending or pathetic, but it does.
“That was rude of me to say. I didn’t mean it. I was just lashing out when I said it.”
“Nah, you were right. It’s okay. No need to apologize.” The air grows thick between us again and I want to ask her what she’s thinking but I know I shouldn’t. “Well, let me get this picture hung for you.” I look through her tool bag, finding the nails, tape measure, and hammer, and place them on the end of the bed.
“Why didn’t you want Preston to help me hang the picture?” She leans against the doorframe of her bedroom.
“Is that his name?” I unbutton my cuffs, rolling my sleeves up slowly. “Mr. Fudge Sundae?”
She cocks her head as if she’s hiding a secret, then she smiles. “Yeah, the other teacher you saw me talking to in my classroom.”
“Preston,” I say his name again as I reach for the tape measure. “Figures, a man wearing deck shoes for fashion would have that name.”
“What’s wrong with his name? Sounds very similar to yours in fact. Preston, Weston.”
I take a few measurements, marking where the nail needs to go on the wall. “Did you want him to do this instead?”
I pick up the nail and hammer, lining it up and tapping it into the wall. I grab the picture, lifting it and placing the taut wire on the nail. I step back, making sure it’s level.
“Looks great.” She steps further into the room. I walk around the bed, standing beside her to look at it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I grab the tools, placing them back in the bag, then in the closet. I start walking down the hallway toward the front door. “You didn’t answer my question, Daphne.” I level my eyes on her as I roll my sleeves back down, buttoning my cuffs. “Would you rather Preston be here right now?” She slowly shakes her head. “I can’t hear you.” I reach for my jacket, sliding it back on.
“No.”
“And why is that?” I adjust my jacket, stepping closer to her.
“No reason.” She shrugs, her eyes shifting away from mine as she circles the island, reaching for a bottle of wine. “Did you want to stay for a drink?”
I step around the island toward her and she takes a small step backward, her back hitting the counter.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I take another step toward her, reaching for the bottle and placing it on the counter behind her.
“No?” Her voice goes up an octave. “Why not?”
I let out a throaty chuckle. “I think you know why.” I touch the end of her braid, my fingers brushing over her silky hair. “These are cute.”
“It’s just a drink. My friend Xana comes over all the time for a drink and honestly, it’s just a kind gesture since you came over and he?—”
I reach up and wrap my hand around the back of her head, my thumb at her jawline. Her nervous energy is back. “Do you ever just let a moment happen, Daphne?”
“A moment? I was just answering your ques—” she starts to ramble again.
“Please shut the fuck up,” I whisper against her lips as I lean in, pressing mine against hers. My other hand finds its way around her waist, her hands still clamped around the edge of the counter. I move my lips over hers, my tongue gently pressing against them, demanding entrance. She releases the counter, her hands coming to rest against my chest as she kisses me back fervently. I tilt my head, pulling at her neck to deepen the kiss as she lets out a soft moan. I take the opportunity to snake my tongue into her mouth, sweeping it across hers, her fingers curling against my shirt.
“That’s why,” I murmur after breaking the kiss. “I can’t trust myself around you.”
Her lips are pink and swollen, her breath coming out in puffs against mine. She blinks slowly, her fingers still clutching at my chest.
“Why can’t you?” she asks almost breathlessly.
“Because the things I want to do to you”—I lean in, running my lips softly up her neck—“are not nice.”
“What kinds of things?” Her eyes flutter closed, her head tilting back to expose her neck even further to my lips.
“Bad things, Miss Flowers. Very bad things.”
Chapter 9
