Once the movie started, they silently munched and kept their eyes locked on the screen. As the popcorn disappeared, he noticed Liza’s fear building. He set the empty bowl on the coffee table and laid his hand on the sofa where the popcorn had set. Whenever they’d watched a scary movie before, she had gripped the life out of his hand, and he was hoping she’d need it again.
Slowly, as each terrifying scene intensified, he noticed her inching closer to him. He switched positions, draping his arm across the sofa back, bending in her direction, making it easier for her to fall into him.
“Oh, crap. I hate this part.” She scooted to the center of the sofa and curled into a ball, tucking her face into her sweatshirt. Only her blue eyes peeked out.
“This is ridiculous.” He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her. “Come here.” She molded into his side, keeping her face pressed against his chest while keeping her eyes on the screen. “You never could get through this movie, you big chicken.”
“Shh. He’s about to ax down the door.” When she snuggled tighter, he wrapped his other arm around her and drew her in close. He took a contented breath, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her silky, now-lavender hair, which brushed against his cheek. How perfect she felt in his arms, like she belonged there. How would she react if tonight he made the first move?
“Get ready.” She squealed into her fists as she closed her eyes. “I hate this part.”
“Why are you afraid of this? You’ve seen it a hundred times.” His chuckle ruffled the top of her head.
“Tell me when it’s over.” She curled tighter, slipping her arms around him. Her nose and mouth were smashed against his ribs, her muffled screams vibrating against his skin. A vacuum cleaner commercial came on, temporarily halting the drama.
“Okay, break time. You can come up for air now.” She slowly uncurled out of his arms, leaving a disappointing void where she’d just been. “Look at you. Your nose is all red.” He tenderly traced the length of her nose to its perky little tip. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he’d promised himself he’d hold back. “You okay?”
She replied with a small nod and moved back, allowing a foot of space between them. “Maybe we should turn this off. I know how it ends.”
Tucker pressed the off button, leaving them in the soft glow of the tree and fire. Outside the wind whipped, making the old house creak and the storm windows rattle. He dropped the remote on the coffee table and settled back into the sofa. Liza was looking at him—her lips slightly parted as if a word silently hung there.
“Not as tough as you used to be,” he said, patting her on her bent knee.
“I scare more easily, I guess.” She pulled her knee from under his hand and sat up straight, keeping her eyes locked on the fire.
“What scares you? Besides that movie.”
“Just…” She brought her thumb to her mouth and gnawed on its cuticle. “Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know.” She popped off the couch and paced in front of the coffee table. “Life. Things going wrong. You know.” Her arms flew out and she turned to face him. “Stuff.”
“Can you be more specific?” He walked around the coffee table and placed his hands on her shoulders. She spooked under his touch.
“No. I can’t.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Of course not. That’s ridiculous.” She attempted to turn away, but he held her firmly in his grasp. Though she had avoided any alone time with him for the past three days and treated him like a houseguest, it was obvious she was fighting her desire just as he was.
“Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Why are you so mad right now?”
“It’s just…” She jerked back and walked into the kitchen. Tucker followed her and stood in the doorway as she rummaged through the refrigerator. “It’s different between us. That’s all.”
She pulled out a bag of apples and dumped them into the sink. She held each apple under the water and rubbed so hard her whole body shook. No dirt or pesticides would survive her furious scrubbing.
“Ever since.” She jerked open a drawer and rifled through its contents, creating a loud clanking of utensils. “Damn it. Where’s the paring knife?”
He crossed the room and opened the dishwasher, handing her the knife from inside. He leaned against the counter and watched as a long, thin apple peel grew in her hand. She was moving so quickly, he was afraid she’d eventually cut herself, so he took the knife and apple away from her.
“Let me do that.” He set the apple on a cutting board, splitting it into eight wedges. “Here.” He handed a piece to her and she bit it in half.
“You were saying. Ever since…what?” He stuffed a piece in his mouth, watching her struggle to talk about their current situation. She had to be the one to spill her feelings and start the conversation. The last time he had tried, the night of her wreck, she’d made it very clear they would never be anything more than friends. But lately, even though she continued her friendship-only mantra, her body chanted something more. If she was indeed falling in love with him—and, God, he hoped so—she needed to be the one to confess it.
“It’s just that…” She tossed the other half of her apple chunk in the sink and braced her hands on the counter, gazing at her reflection in the kitchen window. “Everything is different between us. Ever since…”
“Ever since we kissed that night at the bar?”
“Yes. And at the street fair. And in the camper.” She slammed her palms on the counter and turned toward him, rubbing her hand over her thigh. “It shouldn’t be like this. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for so long. It’s never been awkward between us and I don’t like it.”
“Would you like me to move out?”
“And live in that ice box? No.” She grabbed his arms, giving them a hearty shake. “No. I’ve loved having you here. I don’t even mind the Christmas tree. It’s been great. So great…” Liza dropped her grip as her voice faded. “But strange.”
“How so?”
“Damn it, Tucker. Why do you keep asking me these questions?”
“Because I think there’s something you want to tell me, but you’re afraid of my reaction.” He stepped toward her, closing the gap between them, and brushed his knuckle against her cheek, hoping to make it easier on her. “You know you can tell me anything.” He fingered a pale lavender strand behind her ear, letting his fingertip trail down her neck. “You can’t scare me off.”
“You want to bet?”
TWELVE
Liza shoved the well-washed apples back into their clear plastic bag and crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator. She deposited the bag in the fruit drawer and slammed the door shut. Tucker was hovering over her, demanding answers, his eyes pleading with her, and his gentle touch sending shock waves to the tips of her toes. Why couldn’t he just let it go? He didn’t need to know how she fanaticized about ripping his clothes off and running her hands down his taut, rippled six-pack. Or how she’d wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from a dream starring him and her locked in a torrid kiss, and his look of horror when she took off her clothes. She needed to get her urges under control.
She marched to the living room, picked up the iron poker, and feverishly stabbed into the glowing logs.
“Let me have that.” He extracted the poker from her hand, nudging her away from the fireplace. He repositioned the logs, setting them to burn down and then returned the poker to its holder. “Now.” He turned to her. “Talk. We know everything there is to know about each other.”
“Not everything.” She went to the Christmas tree and tapped a silver bell ornament. Its tiny ding the only sound in the otherwise silent room. “You have to stop pretending.”
“Pretending?”
“Pretending to be my boyfriend.”
“Why? Mr. and Mrs. Claus are supposed to be a couple.”
�
��You just do.”
“Why?” He sidled behind her and she melted to his warm breath in her hair.
“Would you stop asking why?”
“Explain it.”
“It’s too realistic, okay?”
“Too realistic?” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around to face him, tearing her away from the colorful bulbs and trinkets on the tree.
“Yes. You put too much into it.”
He blew out a hearty chuckle and settled his gaze back on Liza. “You’re the one who slipped her tongue in my mouth that first night.” His hands slid languidly down her arms until he captured her hands in his. “I’m not complaining, by the way. But, if we’re pretending, it shouldn’t affect our friendship, right?”
“It’s just that—”
“Yes?” He leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers.
“It’s hard to–”
“Mm-hm?” He inched closer.
“I can’t seem to—”
“Resist?” He brought his lips a breath away from hers. She felt a tug of war going on inside her head. She craved his kiss, but knew if they kept this up it would ruin everything and she couldn’t lose his friendship. This had to stop. She flattened her hands on his chest and shoved, causing him to stumble into the sofa.
“That’s what I’m talking about. You can’t do that. We’re pretending, remember?”
Tucker pushed himself to a standing position and then perched on the arm of the couch. “What if we stopped pretending?”
“Yes. We’ll stop pretending and tell Diana and Bret and the committee we’re just friends. We’ll set a new precedent. Mr. and Mrs. Claus can just be friends. That will be better.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She refused to look at him, to give in to the sultry tone of his voice. By the tingling through her body, she knew he was watching her, expecting her to question his definition of pretending.
“What about the fact that I live here?”
“What about it?” She gathered a stack of magazines in her arms, aligned their edges, and placed them back on the coffee table.
“Won’t it seem strange when you tell them we’re only friends but we’re living together?”
“At least you won’t be required to kiss me.”
“I believe I am required to kiss you under the mistletoe at the ball.”
“Again, we can start a new tradition.”
“I don’t mind. In fact, you seem to like kissing me.”
“Stop it, Tucker.” She stopped her fidgeting and glared at him. He had a sexy, irresistible grin on his face making her palm itch. She wanted to slap him—or run her fingers over his taut muscles—she wasn’t sure which. “This isn’t real. It’s make-believe. It stops now.” She gathered the coasters tossed across the end table, stacking them into perfection.
“I agree. The pretending stops now.” He took the pile of coasters out of her hand, placing them silently on the end table. He gathered her quivering hands in his and tugged her in his direction. “I think what’s making you so angry is that you like it when we kiss.”
“That’s not it.”
He placed his arms around her waist and pulled her between his knees. “When you kiss me, you react in a way that makes me think you’re enjoying it.”
“Tucker…you need to stop.”
“Why?” He pulled her closer and his fingers drew lazy circles on her back, sending white heat through her belly. “Don’t you like kissing me?”
Of course, she liked it. Who wouldn’t? A big, strong, sexy man had his arms around her and all she could think of was drowning in his kiss. How could any woman resist that? Carnal lust. That was all it was.
“In fact. I think what’s scaring you is the fact…” He ran his fingertip across her collar bone. “You like it a lot.”
She jumped back like she’d been burned with the hot fire poker. She slapped his arms away and crossed hers over her chest. Aggravating tears filled her eyes while fear surged through her. She shook her head as she stared at Tucker, whose eyes were lit with amusement. They were playing with fire and it wouldn’t end well.
“It’s okay.” He reached for her, but she took another step back. “I like kissing you, too.”
“Stop it, Tucker. We shouldn’t do this. The only reason we like it is because we’ve both been alone too long.”
One foot in front of the other, he followed her as she backed toward the kitchen. His head nodded and his eyes sparkled. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s more than that.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
She frantically shook her head. She couldn’t give in to his sexy, gravelly voice and bedroom eyes. Friends. That’s all they were. That’s all they could be. Any more and they would ruin everything.
“What’s gotten into you, Tucker? Don’t come any closer.”
“I’m just saying if you want to kiss me, you know, to see if it’s anything or not, you can.” He continued his slow trek toward her, matching each of her backward steps. “You’re right though. We’ve both been alone too long.”
She couldn’t go any farther. Her back hit the wall between the Christmas tree and the kitchen doorway, and Tucker was inches away. What if she confessed she was falling for him, but he only expected sex? Friends with benefits would never work for her, but, admittedly, she was finding it harder to resist him. Of course, once he saw the scarring and he knew the truth, he wouldn’t want her.
“I’m cursed this time of year,” she murmured as he inched closer.
“Why do you always say that?” He pulled her against him while tracing the outside of her face with the back of his hand.
“I’ve told you. Whenever things are going great for me this time of year, something bad happens. You know my history.”
“Are you saying something good is happening between us?”
“Well, I mean, we’ve both admitted we’re pretty good kissers.”
“For sure.” The growl in his voice and his gooey chocolate gaze made her knees go weak.
“Maybe it’s the pretending or the season or the cold wind outside or—”
“What are you babbling about?”
“I just…” The cinnamon aroma from a burning candle and the soft glow of the Christmas lights playing off his dark, shiny hair, made her senses crackle like the pops and snaps of the burning logs. “I want to…”
“Kiss me?”
“Yes.” It came out on a sigh and she sagged into the wall.
He closed the gap until just an inch stood between them, his eyes locked on hers. “You’re my best friend and will continue to be, there’s no harm in being together.”
“But what if—”
He lifted her in his arms, letting her feet dangle between his legs.
“Listen to me.” With one hand firmly around her back, he cupped her head with his other. “We’re obviously attracted to each other, but I’ll stop if you really want me to.” He was nose-to-nose with her.
“It’s just…”
“Tell me you don’t feel it.”
“So, I…”
“Tell me.”
All the fight left her body. She had nothing left. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smothered her mouth against his shoulder. “I can’t.” She raised her head, could feel her face contorted with anguish. “But I—”
Tucker shook his head, stifling her protests. “But you feel something, right?”
She stared into his deep brown eyes and found herself nodding, as if her head and neck had a mind of their own.
“Good, so it’s not my imagination.” He kissed her quick. “You want me as much as I want you.” He gave her another fast kiss. “Just say the word.”
This time there was nothing quick about it. He lowered his head, brushing a soft, slow kiss on her lips, and if he didn’t have her firmly encircled in his arms, she would have puddled to the floor. It was the first time he’d initiated intimacy between them, but even now he had more control than she did
. Her hands circled his neck and she smashed her mouth against his. Whenever he came near, she wanted to blanket herself around him, press him against her, kiss him with all her strength. He followed her lead and kissed her deeper, more powerfully than ever before, and she tightened her hold on him. His tongue tangled with hers while he grabbed a handful of her hair, holding her head in place. Their tongues plunged, groped, intertwined, sucked away their breath as if their very existence counted on this kiss. His hand slid lower, palming her bottom, drawing her closer to him. She needed to touch him, feel his warmth.
She slid her hand inside his T-shirt, running her fingers up and down his back. He moaned happily and she wrapped her other hand around his neck. She couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get enough of him, and right now, all her other worries were gone. He tucked both hands under her butt, urging her legs around his waist, and carried her to the sofa. Their mouths stayed locked as he lowered her against the arm, propping her against the pillow. She stretched out her legs and he did the same, lying over her, keeping his weight off her by bracing himself on the back of the couch.
She tugged him down, relishing the full length of him crushing her into the sofa cushions. His hand trailed from her butt down the back of her thigh, creating a lava-hot burn through the thin fabric of her pajama pants. This was what she’d wanted, dreamed of since that first kiss at the bar. Though she demanded they remain friends, she was the one who had crossed the line.
He bent her knee and eased himself between her legs. She spread her fingers over the back of his head and pulled him deeper, her tongue demanding more. She wanted him so badly, but when he tugged down on the waistband of her pajama pants, a bright, white light flared behind her lids. Her breath caught and her chest clenched. She had to stop him before he saw.
Whatever We Are: A Highland Springs Romance (Whatever Series Book 3) Page 9
