Page 33 of Vincent
"I have a favor."
"I'm listening," she said quietly. Pulling herself up on the pillows, she watched as he walked naked to the table where the refreshments and wine were. And shamelessly admired hisexcellent ass and form. The man was magnificent, she thought with a pang.
Popping the cork open, he sucked up the spillage before pouring it into two glasses. Snagging the plate with the snacks, he brought them over and stretched out again.
"This is good." He shook his head. "No, in fact, it's great. I want to keep it just between us. And I don't want us asking where it's going. I never thought we could. That this could be something we do.
"I never saw you in this light. You were my best friend, and yes, I knew you were a looker, even more so now." He tossed her an absent grin as he handed her the glass and then took a breath. "The point is, I-I'm not really interested in a relationship. I hope you understand."
Her breath caught and held, and she had to fight down the pain inside her chest. She had expected some sort of resistance, expected that it would take time for him to realize that there was something between them. What she hadn't expected was that he would immediately deny there was. What had just happened between them was pure magic, and the fact that he refused to see it was making her mad as hell. Mad enough to tell him to go to hell.
She loved him! God, how she loved him. Loving him had consumed much of her life and she was sick to death of having just a tiny piece of him. She had her pride after all, and if he thought she was going to beg, then he had another thing coming.
"Let me get this straight." She sipped the wine to fortify herself and to make certain that she got a hold on her temper that was bubbling to the surface. "You want to keep us a secret. What? You will just sneak in here under the cover of darkness? And if we see each other at functions, I must what? Pretend not to know you?"
The glass was arrested halfway to his lips, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he had offended her.
"We're friends, so of course we would acknowledge each other."
"Is that what we are?" She was dangerously calm.
"I cannot give you more."
"So, just friends then?"
"Look, Thea-" He carefully put the glass next to him on the bedside table before continuing. "You know the deal. I'memotionally unavailable. Losing Lizzie-" He firmed his lips and waited for the shaft of pain that always came with her name. When he didn't feel it, the guilt came full force. "Losing her took a chunk out of me and I have no intention of putting myself through anything like that again."
"You want sex, that's it?"
He eyed her warily. He knew her well. They had been friends for years and even though they had been apart for a while, he knew the look on her face and the tone of her voice.
"It's more than that. We're also friends."
"Well, friend-" The stress on the word did not escape him. "I'm sure you would not object to the fact that I would like you to leave. Right now."
"What?" He blinked at her. He had plans for the weekend. Plans that included them not leaving the bed until he had to go home tomorrow. He wanted her and was by no means sated. The enormous thirst for her was far from satisfied.
"I just remembered that I plan on going to church tomorrow morning and I have a few things to do. Why don't you make an appointment for the next hookup, and I'll see if I can pencil youinto my very busy schedule?" Magnificent mahogany brown eyes blazed at him.
Chapter 8
Fear had made him talk first without assessing the situation. It had him by the throat. The fact was that he had never felt this way before, not with Lizzie. What he had shared with the woman he loved, the one who had died bearing his son, was tame compared to what he was feeling for his best friend.
So, he had jumped into survival mode. He was taking his stance, limiting the time spent with her. He wanted her, oh how he wanted her, but it had to be at his discretion. But he had pissed her off and now she was booting him out. He had also forgotten her formidable temper.
Trying to appease her, he started to reach for her, but she danced away. Taking the sheets off her, she climbed off the bed and marched over to slip into a robe at the foot of the bed. And stood there facing him, the robe unbelted.
"I want you to take a good long look at me. I value myself immensely. I'm a damn fine looking woman who can have any man I want. I've lived in Italy and France, and men, handsome men, men of means, vied for my attention. I did not come back home to be someone's dirty little secret. So, if that's what you want, then screw you."
"Now wait just a damn minute-"
"No, you wait just a damn minute. The fact that you could ask that of me shows how little you really know me." Anger was making her chest heave, and he could not help but admire the proud lift of her breasts. Ones he had suckled on hungrily, just minutes ago. He felt himself hardening and knew he had to have her again. And again.
The woman was more potent than the wine he had taken a few sips of.
"Can we just have a proper conversation?" He stretched out a hand, dropping it when she gave it and him a disdainful look. He was not used to being on the receiving end of her magnificent temper and he had no idea how to defuse it.
"What the hell do you want me to say?" he demanded.
