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I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him. “It’s okay, Kieran.” I had no idea what I was telling him was okay. Maybe I was really telling myself that it was okay for me to have had that stupid thought, that demon hope.
Even now, my body ached for him, knowing there was no chance for anything more. My stupid brain stored up every touch. The way it felt to be with him like this, that magnetism between us I’d imagined—all for my pretty little fantasy world.
Why did I do this to myself?
I stroked his hair, enjoying the silky texture. I tried to concentrate on that, on something that would calm my breathing. He had to feel the slam of my heart against my ribs, it was almost like it was trying to jackhammer from my flesh into his.
His heart beat wildly, too. His breath was a staccato rhythm against my throat.
Maybe he’d been afraid I’d try to kiss him and he didn’t know how to tell me no. Even that thought wasn’t enough to make me let go of him, to surrender this moment to the past. It was mine. I was going to hold on to it as long as he’d let me.
“If only you knew.”
“I do know. I do,” I assured him.
He broke the embrace. “The shoot Saturday. You told Brant that you’d do some scenes with him. Do one with me.”
“What?” That was the last thing I’d expected him to say.
“You’re the designer. You should have shots with all of us.”
“I’m not putting them on the site.”
“You might change your mind. Then you’ll have them.”
That little voice in the back of my head screamed no, that this was the bad idea to end all bad ideas. But what could it hurt? It wasn’t like I was going to actually put them up.
“Okay.”
Except after I said it, I felt like I’d just triggered some series of events that would cause the apocalypse.
But that was dumb. It was just a couple of pictures on a car.
We settled in and rewound the episode to catch what we’d missed. Except I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on the screen—as much as I wanted to. I was hyperaware of everywhere we touched. Of the way he smelled—like Polo Black. The heat of him.
I felt like the biggest asshole.
Not only because I’d spent the night previous with Brant—I’d told him I didn’t want any sort of relationship or commitment. Even though I still felt guilty sitting here perving on Kieran. But because he’d turned to me as a friend, he needed me and I was too busy worrying about my pussy and the size of my ass.
Really, Claire? I asked myself—as if somehow asking the question might change the answer.
When the episode was over, he kissed the top of my head. So not what I’d been angling for. “I’m going to crash for a few hours. It’s going to be a late night.”
“See you later.”
“You could come.” He waggled his brows.
“Watch you sleep? No thanks.”
“No, you could do that little hair twirl you were doing earlier. It would put me right to sleep. Maybe pet my eyebrows?”
“That’s a girlfriend job. If I have to do the work, I want the perks.” Fuck, why had I said that? My mouth was going to get me in more trouble yet.
He looked like I’d just punched him. “What exactly are the perks you’re referring to?”
“I have no idea. I was just talking shit.” Honesty might actually work here.
“You think on that and let me know.”
What was wrong with me? He’d invited me to go to bed with him. This was what I wanted. Why had I said no? He didn’t want to fuck me, but shouldn’t I take what I could get—I mean, if he was offering?
That petty part of me spoke up again. She said that this was the thing I had over every other woman who came into his life—including April. I had this side of him. It was mine.
“I’ll pet you to sleep, but you owe me dinner. And change the sheets,” I blurted before I could chicken out.
“Done. I changed them before we left.”
Ha. April had been scrubbed away as easy as that. I knew it was wrong of me to think of it like that. Hell, everything I’d done in the last twenty four hours was wrong, but I did it anyway.
I followed him into his room and my hands were sweaty, my stupid pulse racing. I was just going to take a nap. We’d done this before too. This wasn’t any new territory.
Kicking off my shoes, I got on the bed with all the trepidation of a virgin on prom night. He wrapped himself around me, his head on my chest just above my breasts.
And I stroked his hair as promised, smoothed my thumb over his eyebrows. It was an odd thing to find comforting, but he said his mother had done it when he was little.
