Virtually Mine (The Lindstroms Book 5)

by Katy Paige

  Then he patted her back and let her go.

  CHAPTER 18

  Paul had been reading in the rocking chair on his front porch for the past half hour, wondering when the van holding Zoë would pull up at the inn a few doors down.

  He’d specifically left school as soon as the last bell sounded and had run home for a quick workout so that he wouldn’t miss her return. He didn’t plan to pick her up until six for the Harvest Dance, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her step out of the van and up the steps of her inn. He glanced at his watch again.

  Four forty-five? It’s getting late. They better be back soon.

  He took another sip of coffee and looked up from his book in time to see the van turn onto Stone Street, passing his house and pulling up in front of the Mountain View Inn.

  After a long moment, there she was, getting out of the passenger side of the van, sunglasses obscuring her eyes and a stubby black ponytail unable to keep black wisps from framing her face. She was wearing jeans and a black camisole top that showed the tan she’d picked up in the park. His whole body reacted to seeing her there, suddenly so close after two days apart, and he strained his neck to see her circle to the back of the van and wait for Nils.

  But his eyes narrowed as Zoë stared up at Nils. They talked for a minute or two, intently, totally focused on each other, which bothered Paul…but it wasn’t until Nils brushed her hair back and leaned down to whisper something in her ear that his book slid from his hands to crash onto the floor.

  “Fuuuuck,” he breathed, his fingers curling into fists as he stood up, transfixed on the scene unfolding down the street. His chest heaved with the effort of controlling his breathing and his nostrils flared with fast-onset jealousy.

  His breath caught again as she practically threw herself into Nils’s arms, and dread uncoiled in his stomach as Nils held her, rubbing her back. Had they formed an attachment? What next? Would they kiss?

  Please God, I can’t take it if I have to watch her kiss Nils Lindstrom in front of me.

  Thankfully, she pulled back from Nils without kissing him, but her eyes were intense as she said something else to him. Paul couldn’t see Nils’s expression, but he saw his friend’s hands curl into fists, just as Paul’s had just done.

  What the hell was she saying to him to have that effect? What had happened between them that had them acting so connected? So…focused on each other?

  Finally, she turned and walked away, giving a small wave before she disappeared from view at the top of the inn stairs.

  “No! This is not happening,” he said out loud, jumping down the front porch steps and striding purposefully toward the Mountain View Inn in his bare feet and sweaty workout clothes. Two minutes later, he knocked on the door of the inn.

  “Well, Paul Johanss—”

  “I’m here to see Zoë.”

  “Well, I don’t—”

  “What room is she in?” he asked in his most no-nonsense principal voice.

  “Well, she’s in the Mountain Laurel Room, but I don’t think—”

  Paul took the stairs in front of him two at a time, pivoting around the banister. Edelweiss. Forget-Me-Not. Mountain Laurel.

  He knocked on the door twice. Loudly.

  “Coming!”

  She turned the doorknob, and he pushed it open, stepping into her room and kicking it shut behind him.

  ***

  Paul was here. Out of nowhere. Standing in front of her. In her bedroom. Looking furious.

  “H-hi,” she murmured, unable to look away from his face.

  Her heart had launched into overdrive at the sight of him, her chest moving up and down dramatically with surprise and excitement. She licked her lips nervously before biting her lower lip.

  “Are you with Nils?” he growled, eyes flicking to her lip before capturing her eyes with a stark, desperate intensity.

  “Am I—with N-Nils? No! Absolutely not!” she said, shaking her head back and forth.

  “Thank God,” he breathed, reaching for her.

  He pulled her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers without warning as he groaned against her lips, his fingers kneading her hips, drinking her in with a yearning that surprised her at first. But after a moment, her whole body relaxed into him and she parted her lips, welcoming his tongue into her mouth as she stepped up on her tiptoes, her fingers lacing around the back of his neck. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles as he stumbled to the bed, sitting down on the edge, holding on to her hips as she straddled him intimately.

  His fingers clutched at the edge of her camisole, and she pulled away from his lips to whip it over her head before threading her hands back into his damp hair and reclaiming his lips. He readjusted her, slamming her tightly up against him, holding her with one hand as he tugged his shirt up and over his head, then squeezed her backside, fitting her even more closely against him. Her naked breasts pressed up against the hard contours of his chest as he feathered kisses along her jawline. She tilted her neck to the side, sighing as he took her earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently at the soft skin, urging soft, breathy whimpers from the back of her throat.

  “I missed you,” she murmured, eyes closed and heart thumping against his chest with grateful relief. Their phone conversation must not have given her away, after all. He still didn’t know who she was. She would be able to tell him in her own way, and then offer herself to him, hoping it was enough.

  “I missed you more,” he whispered into her ear, running his hands up and down the planes of her warm back.

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her lips near the hollow of his neck as he nuzzled her ear.

  “I’m filthy,” she sighed, her fingers bending and flexing over the smooth, hot skin of his back.

  “Me too. Sweaty. Sorry.” He rested his chin on her head, his hands still gliding up and down her back. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

  She swallowed, wiggling in his lap. His hands moved like lightening to her backside and he grasped her uncompromisingly, pulling her as close to him as possible, his hardness stabbing her through the material of his shorts and her jeans, making it clear what he wanted.

  “How was your trip?” he asked, resting his lips against the pulse point in her neck. She shivered, sliding her hands to his chest, and laying them side by side over the fierce pounding of his heart.

  “It was, um, good,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering open then closed, barely able to catch her breath, feeling dizzy with want. He was hard as a rock. She was straddling him. On her bed. She didn’t want to talk about her trip. She wanted him. Her fingers curled against his skin, making him flinch from the contact of her nails on his chest.

  “Good.”

  His breath was hot in her ear. He leaned back and she looked up, pleased to see that his eyes were dilated and heavy-lidded as he stared back at her. He still held her body flush against his, his hands clasping her to him, laced against the small of her back.

  He was so beautiful; she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. It was almost unbearable to love him this much when the possibility of a future with him was so precarious. She didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted the distraction of his body, naked, moving against her, buried inside of her, obliterating any uncertainty for a few minutes as he forced her to meet him, stay with him, making her scream his name as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her body and made her buck and shudder against him. That’s what she wanted. Now.

  He searched her eyes for a long moment before his lips tilted up in a teasing smile. “I have to go.”

  “W-What?” She practically sobbed in disappointment.

  He released her backside, moving his hands to her waist and gently pushing her away from him until her bare feet hit the floor. He stood up in front of her, steadying her, letting his gaze linger over her flushed body before meeting her eyes.

  “I just wanted to say hi.”

  She had never seen
anything as sexy as him in her life and every inch of her body was throbbing with want.

  “You just wanted—”

  “I’ll be back for you at six.”

  He leaned down and picked up his shirt, throwing it over his head as he sidestepped her bewildered, statue-still form. He paused at the door and turned to face her, a wide grin making his face almost boyish.

  “This is just an intermission, Zoë.”

  Then he opened the door and slipped out of her room, leaving her half-naked and completely frustrated.

  ***

  Paul knew what she wanted.

  Leaving her topless, with those big, brown, liquid bedroom eyes staring up at him had taken almost superhuman strength, but there was no way he was having sex with her until they’d both put their cards on the table. When he finally made love to her, he wanted to be free to tell her he loved her—both parts of her, all of her. And he couldn’t do that while deception still hovered uncertainly between them.

  When he walked back over to the inn almost an hour later, showered and shaved, he couldn’t help the excitement he felt. He could finally be with Zoë without feeling any guilt about Holly. The romantic side of him that had been waiting so long to do something for the woman he loved had a surprise for Zoë Holly Flannigan tonight. Later. Later, after she’d told him who she was and he had reassured her that he wanted her in his life more than ever.

  She was waiting for him on the porch swing and stood up as he approached, smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress. He stood at the bottom of the inn steps looking up at her, all of his buoyancy turning to heat as he stared at her. She wore a royal blue strapless dress that hugged her breasts tightly before falling to her ankles, one of which wore that seductive silver anklet. What was it about a girl in a strapless dress that made a man’s throat go thick and mouth go dry? Probably because most men assumed that a girl in a strapless dress wasn’t wearing a bra, which meant that her breasts were exactly one piece of fabric away from being touched. And once your mind went there, it was pretty impossible to stop the direction of your thoughts.

  “Hi,” she said, and he was forced to look up from her chest and meet her eyes.

  Her eyes.

  Oh, my God.

  Her eyes were blue, and she wore barely there, frameless glasses over them. He stared at them in awe, at their luminous, bright, clear-blue color, fringed with thick dark lashes.

  “I, um, I took out my, um, contacts. Just for tonight,” she said in a soft voice, and he could hear the worry in it.

  “Blue eyes,” he murmured, held hostage by their unexpected beauty in her pale, dark-haired, dark-lashed face. Knowing she was blue-eyed and actually seeing them in person for the first time were two very different things.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed and gave him a worried smile. “I have blue eyes.”

  “You hid them,” he said softly, remembering Maggie’s words.

  She shrugged. “After the accident, I—I guess I didn’t want to look like myself anymore, or something. My face looked different from the injuries, so I, um, I dyed my hair and got brown contacts.”

  “What color’s your hair?” he asked because he felt he should, even though he knew the answer.

  “Blonde. Sort of a honey blonde, but it used to get really light in summer.”

  “Black suits you too,” he said gently, meaning it. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her lips parted in surprise and pleasure, finally tilting up in confidence, and she took a deep, ragged breath. “I didn’t know if you’d be…you know, I don’t know, mad or something.”

  “Mad?”

  “That I hid my eyes.”

  Damn, he wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her to be more beautiful, but she was. Smiling lightly in relief, she was stunning. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He nodded slowly, reaching a hand out to her and lacing his fingers through hers as she walked down the steps between them.

  “I guess people have reasons for hiding things.”

  Her eyes widened just a touch, and he heard her breath catch as she leaned toward him.

  “I guess so,” she breathed in such a low, intense whisper, he could barely make out the words.

  “Any more secrets?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing them back and forth against the warm, pale skin.

  “Um…Well, I—I don’t—” She swallowed, and he looked up to see her eyes turn from pleased to stricken.

  “How was the park?” he asked lightly, pulling on her hand until she stood on the bottom step. He didn’t want to force her to tell him the truth until she was ready, even though he was anxious to get it over with.

  She grimaced briefly, staring up at him. And she may have been about to tell him the truth about herself, but she made the critical error of biting on her shiny, glossy lower lip. His eyes darted to it and he pulled her flush against him, leaning down to kiss her. He would never tire of holding her in his arms. He couldn’t imagine a day when he wouldn’t want to kiss her. He wished she would just tell him her secret so they were both free of it, but he could feel her holding back.

  “Ready to go?” he asked against her lips.

  “Yeah, I mean, but I should tell you—”

  “You want to go get a sweater or something?”

  “A sweater?” she glanced down at her exposed chest, where goose bumps had raised after the brief contact of their lips.

  “N-No. I’m not cold.”

  “Great. Then let’s go.”

  “I have something I should tell you…”

  Her voice trailed off, her bright blue eyes held his and he saw the agony in them.

  He shrugged, giving her an encouraging smile.

  Man, she had a million tells when she was withholding something. It comforted him to know it made her so uncomfortable. It meant that it wasn’t commonplace. It meant that Maggie was right: it troubled her deeply that she had deceived him and probably wouldn’t be a pattern in her dealings with him. It also meant it was out of character, and Paul’s experience dictated that behaving out of character generally meant that strong feelings were involved. He squeezed her hand to reassure her.

  “Maybe tell me later?” he suggested gently, offering her a reprieve, pressing his lips to hers one more time. This time he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past her lips and winding one strong arm around her body, pulling her up against him.

  This is Holly. This is Zoë. This is my woman. And I love her.

  When he drew back, he almost wondered if he’d said the words out loud because she stared at him with such wonder in her eyes, he knew they’d never get past the bottom step of her inn if he didn’t stop kissing her.

  He tugged on her hand and started walking back toward his house.

  “We’ll take my car, okay?”

  ***

  There was something different about that kiss.

  No, not just different. New.

  She clasped his hand tighter as he talked about the dance, and she only half listened, having already heard the details from Nils. She couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss he’d just given her. It was so tender, so possessive…it’s not that it felt more emotional than other kisses they’d shared. But more open. As though some barrier that had kept him from her had been eliminated. Was it his feelings for Holly dying? Was that it?

  Because that kiss was about all or nothing. No. There was no “nothing” about it. That kiss was about “all.” About being all in. About being in love. That’s it, she thought, and her hand may have trembled in his as the realization became truth. Love. It was all about love.

  But he couldn’t love her yet! Not like this. She needed more time. She needed to tell him—

  “You’re quiet,” he said, breaking into the urgency of her thoughts as he led them down his driveway, opening the passenger side of his black Jeep.

  She stepped into the SUV and buckled her seatbelt.

  He circled around and sat
down next to her, putting his key in the ignition then turning to her before starting the car.

  He was wearing a light blue dress shirt tucked into khaki pants, and he wore the preppy New England look like he was born to it. He had the shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan, muscular arms, dusted with freckles and curly blond hairs that were soft under her fingers when she reached out to touch him.

  “Paul…”

  “You okay?”

  She looked up at him, searching his eyes with hers. Do you love me? Will you still love me when I tell you the truth? Is there anything I can do to ensure you will? Because I can’t bear to lose you.

  She took a deep breath and gave him a small smile before looking away. “I just missed you. That’s all. I’m glad to be with you again.”

  “Zoë,” he started, his voice serious, “before, you said you wanted to tell me something. If there’s something on your mind, I mean—we can talk.”

  She turned to look at him, remembering the reality between them. Tonight might be all she had with him. If he pushed her away after she told him who she really was, she would turn and walk away. She had promised herself. She wouldn’t put him through any more if he rejected her once he knew the truth. But she couldn’t give up whatever time they had left together.

  “No,” she said, deliberately lightening her voice. “I’m just happy to see you. Well, and…I leave on Saturday morning. It makes me sad. But I’m not going to let it ruin tonight.”

  “Saturday morning isn’t the end of us,” he said softly, reaching for her hand.

  “No?” she asked, her heart beating faster.

  “No way. This is just the beginning.”

  “It is?”

  “Definitely.”

  She clenched her teeth together, tears springing up in the backs of her eyes. Could she do this? Could she enjoy tonight knowing she had to tell him the truth before they said good night? He squeezed her hand, but she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d start to cry. The answer was no. She’d finally come to the end of the line; she had no strength left to carry on the charade.

  “Paul—” she started.