Page 8 of One Night Stand After Another
His praise rubbed a faint, but still tender, disappointment. “Apparently, the judges disagreed.”
“The judges were wrong.”
His voice was so sure, so certain, so damn encouraging that it ripped her wide open. “See? That’s just what I’m talking about. You said the same thing at the art show, and I believed you. I felt like you believed in me, and I started thinking maybe we could—” She stopped. Took a breath. “I thought you liked me, Zane. Like, really liked me. Not just that you wanted to kiss me and rub it in Jack’s face.” As she spoke, another sweater idea tickled her, inspired her, fired her up.
Not now, she told her muse.
Zane opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, silencing him. “Jack and I knew we were going to see other people. There was only one way for me to betray him, and it was with you. And I did it. Because I felt something for you. Something I’d never felt in my life—not even with Jack. I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about you. Why? Why did you do it?”
“Because I did like you, way too much,” Zane said. “It wasn’t about Jack, I swear, not until he opened that door and I saw the horror in your eyes. The fury in his. I wanted to save you from that. So, I made it my fault—at least, I thought I did. I tried to turn it into a joke, but it backfired, horribly. I regretted it the minute I said it.”
“It’s not her fault she couldn’t resist me,” she quoted, packing her voice with diamond-edged sarcasm. “That was an attempt at rescue?”
He winced. “I see the flaw in my plan, but I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“Admitting that now doesn’t help at all.” In fact, it made her even angrier. He’d felt it, too. He’d tried to help her save face, and in doing so had made her doubt herself so badly, she’d made a string of unfortunate choices over the course of a decade.
Worse, she actually believed him—mostly. There was no way he could convince her there hadn’t been at least a small element of competition with Jack, a moot point now, but still a factor. “I don’t know what to say.”
His clear, gray gaze caught hers. “Say you’ll forgive me for being a stupid kid? And give me a chance to show you what a man would do.” His voice deepened, his lips curved, and his eyes held a dare, the exact same expression that had landed her in that supply closet ten years ago, and just like then, her heart pounded, her cheeks heated, her skin tingled, and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to say yes. How on earth did he do that to her?
“I still want you, Clara. Nothing has changed for me. Being near you still makes me feel all the same things.”
She blinked at him for several full seconds, processing his incredible gall.
“Give me another chance?” He took her cold hand in his strong, warm one.
“No way—I came here to right wrongs, not compound them.” Although it was hard to remember why that was so important, when he was lightly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and giving her that devilish grin. He was gazing at her the same way she’d been looking at that chocolate fountain, like he wanted to dive in. Dive intoher.
Her breath caught as she imagined him inside her, then she blinked hard, trying to clear the evidence of what that thought did to her from her mind.
But her body refused to let it go.
Her heart raced. It took concentration to breathe evenly. There was nothing she could do to disguise the warm flush on her cheeks, but she could blame that on anger, right? She was so mad at him.
Except, was she?
“Clara?” He moved a step closer. “Do you feel that? It was always like this for me. Every time you walked into a room, I noticed. When I heard your voice, I shivered.”
All the air in the room was gone. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
The grown-man version of the smile he’d given her ten years ago was exactly ten times as devastating. “We’ve still got tonight—”
“If you finish that tired line, Iwillthroat punch you.” But her fingers clung to his, and she leaned toward him.
He captured her other hand. “Let me show you how sorry I am for disappointing you. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”
One night.
He was still holding her hands, but he wasn’t crowding her in the small space, wasn’t using his big body to sway her. Yet, she could barely think. Because she wanted to know if kissing him was as good as she remembered. She wanted to know what his mature scruff felt like against her cheek. And thighs. She wanted to know what it would feel like to get naked with someone whose mere presence took her halfway to orgasm without even touching her.
Because that’s what Zane did.
That fucking suit. That perfectly tousled hair. His scent—midnight, darkness, the ocean. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to get her hands on him so badly that she felt off-balance, dizzy.
Yep, so familiar. She’d felt the same way ten years ago, and he’d let her down. She’d let Jack down. And then she’d let herself down. Down, down, down…
But it wasn’t her hopes, dreams, and heart on the line tonight. She knew better now. She’d never be so foolish again. And she didn’t need Jack’s blessing, but she had it.
