His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t interpret. “You’re not tall, I’ll give you that, but dumpy? Woman, you need to get naked in front of a mirror.”
She patted her hair like some bun-wearing church matron. “Naked? I can’t imagine.”
“I will never understand women.” He chuffed and shook his head, staring at her with a serious expression on face, but a spark in his eyes. “Will you let me show you something?”
Her gaze dropped to his pants. Was this a game of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? If so, she was all in as long as he went first. Without moving her numb lips, she whispered, “All right.”
He took her hand and led her into her bedroom. The bedside lamp put out a soft glow. She scrunched her toes in the fringe of the floor rug and looked to the door.
“Come here.” He’d moved in front of her old-fashioned oval floor mirror.
“No way am I getting naked in front of God, you, and that damn mirror.”
“You don’t have to get naked.” He crooked his finger in a “come-on” gesture. “Although, I wouldn’t complain.”
She took a step toward him unable to resist the tease in his voice. He seldom let his guard down enough to be playful. “Not naked?”
“Only as naked as you want to be.”
Her breathing hitched and her heart sped up like a horse given the spurs. This demonstration could turn dangerous. Her self-control around him had been tested once and found to be severely lacking. Yet, she took another step and another, each one leading her into the unknown. What were they doing? Surely this had nothing to do with his guilt. Her questions turned to ash when he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and guided her back into his chest.
He dwarfed her, his shoulders set well above hers and much wider, his hands engulfing her arms. Moving his hands to her shoulders, he massaged, his thumbs rubbing up her neck. She tilted her head back, a whimpering moan escaping as her eyes fluttered closed.
Around distant, cold Alec, she could control her spiraling desire, but around sweet, playful Alec, she had no defenses in place and wasn’t sure she wanted to build any. His hands moved along her spine and pulled her shirt taut.
“Look.” His breath was warm in her ear.
Goose bumps broke over her arms. Opening her eyes, she looked at the woman in the mirror. He’d pulled her T-shirt from behind until the fabric hugged her breasts and emphasized the curves of her waist and hips. Her nipples had tightened, pressing against the lace of her bra and the thin cotton of her shirt.
“Can you see what I see? Jesus Christ, your body is every man’s wet dream.”
He let go of her shirt, the fabric loose once more. Yet, he wasn’t finished with her. His hands slipped under her shirt, lifting the fabric to under her breasts. “May I?”
She hesitated, but he didn’t force her decision, holding the fabric still. It was a question of trust. Had he earned enough trust over the last week? Maybe she was naive. Maybe she was reckless. Maybe she was just plain dumb. “O-Okay.”
The shirt blinded her for a heartbeat, and her hair came cascading over her shoulders, brushing the top curves of her breasts. He tossed her shirt aside, a strip of bright color on the dark wooden floor. She blinked at her reflection.
Her bra was nearly transparent, her nipples visible through the white lace. The cups pushed her breasts up and together. The dim light softened her edges and muted everything she was self-conscious about.
No, Alec muted those disparaging little voices in her head. His eyes in the mirror were heavy-lidded and admiring, his mouth slack. His chest moved against her back as if he too were breathing harder. “You are fucking perfect.”
He caressed under her breasts with his fingertips, the sensitive skin sending signals to her nipples. She wanted more, but words froze from her brain to her mouth. Her body spoke for her, her back arching, her bottom pressing into his thighs, her head notching into his neck.
He claimed to not understand women, but he answered her unspoken plea. He cupped her breasts and squeezed.
He nipped at her neck, soothing the love bite with his tongue. She circled her hand around him and clamped the back of his thigh, holding him to her. She closed her eyes and tried to turn in his arms in search for his lips.
His hands left her breasts for her shoulders, pressing her back into him. “No. This is about you, not me. Look in the mirror.”
His hands trekked down her chest, brushing her hair back as he went. With one smooth motion, he hooked his thumbs in the top of her bra cups and pulled the lace to ride under her breasts. Her exposure was so sudden and unexpected, she didn’t have a chance to protest.
The woman in the mirror was a stranger, her hair flowing around her shoulders, her eyes half closed and sensuous, her hips undulating. Her pale bare breasts filled his large, tanned hands. Dark and light; feminine curves in juxtaposition to muscular strength.
“Can you see what I see? If you’d given me the least amount of encouragement, I would have been knocking down your door years ago. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and that includes a bunch of cling-on Barbie doll cheerleaders.”
Her chest tightened, tears coming into her eyes. No one had ever talked to her like he did, much less made her feel like he did. Why had she let one stupid, drunken incident when they were young and immature color her entire opinion of him?
His hand skated down her stomach, his fingers tucking inside of her yoga pants. She grabbed his wrist, screwing up her courage to push his hand farther south.
“When can you take a test?” His question was like a slow, excruciating dunk in cold water.
She pulled his hand away, and adjusted her bra so at least she was covered if not concealed. The sudden switch from erotic play to reality was jarring. Two tests waited under her bathroom sink. “Soon.”
She grabbed her T-shirt off the floor and yanked it over her head, trying to gather herself. Out of his arms, doubts speared through the confusion. What would happen after she took the tests? Until she knew one way or another, any sort of real connection with him hung in limbo.
They might be forced to deal with their mistake—together. But, if she wasn’t pregnant, could they build a real relationship on top of the shaky emotional foundation of their past?
“Lilliana . . .” He finger-combed his hair and shifted on his feet. His mouth opened, but then he clamped it shut, considering her. “Tell me one way or another as soon as you know. Okay?”
“Do you think I would keep you dangling with a fake pregnancy?” She huffed. His gaze dropped to her feet, his answer clear. “Oh. My. God. That’s exactly what you think. It’s time for you to leave.”
He walked past her and out the door but turned back. His history was etched into the grooves framing his mouth, the crinkles around his eyes, the ink under his arm. “I’m sorry.”
History by definition was in the past, and she’d been willing to let go of her preconceptions to move forward. Obviously, he wasn’t so willing . . . or able. “Don’t apologize. I get that you don’t trust me. Or anyone for that matter. But, you’re not exactly an open book. What was tonight about? If you’re using me because you’re lonely or horny or guilty, then you can go to hell, Alec Grayson.”
10
A wave of heat that had nothing to do with his earlier arousal coursed through him. Lonely. Horny. Guilty. He was all of the above, and Lilliana had the power to alleviate him of at least the first two. He wasn’t using her like he’d used other women. Was he?
Worried about her intentions, he hadn’t examined his own. He was no saint. He’d hurt countless women without giving it a thought, but Lilliana’s pain radiated into him. His chest went tight and his heart lodged in his throat.
She stomped by him, heading for the front door. Without considering his actions or what he needed to say to make things right, he shot his hand out to catch her wrist.
“I’m not using you.” He cursed the waffling indecision in his voice.
�
��How reassuring,” she said dryly. She twisted her wrist out of his grip and skipped down the stairs, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders. She opened the door and gestured him through. Her face was pinched tight, her dark eyes flashing.
Why had he accused her of manipulating him with possible pregnancy? Because if he assumed the worst, he wouldn’t get hurt or disappointed, yet both those feelings battered him anyway.
His gut told him Lilliana wouldn’t betray him, yet he’d been burned by trusting his instincts before. The crux of his problem wasn’t whether or not he could trust Lilliana. He didn’t trust himself.
Watching her in the mirror had tested his self-control to the breaking point. He hadn’t been feeding her a line—she was perfect. Her body, yes, but also the sweetness and laughter she offered without asking for anything in return. The urge to fall on his knees in front of her and give her a portion of that back had been strong. The only way to rein himself in had been to bring them both crashing back to reality.
On the porch, he turned back. “Lilliana wait, I—”
The door slammed. He knocked, but the answer was the snick of the lock. If she was pregnant, of course he’d man up. But, if she wasn’t, what then? Did he walk away?
The thought dug a hollow place in his chest. Light after light clicked off. He imagined her climbing into bed and wished he were brave enough to join her. After everything was still and dark for several minutes, he retreated to his cold, lonely truck and drove to his cold, lonely house.
After a restless night, Alec spent the day running from job to job, cramming in as much work as possible before the team gathered for the game. The work helped keep his mind off Lilliana.
Two more games until the playoffs. If they won. Hunter sat in the back corner of the team room, set apart from the throbbing energy bouncing around the others. He palmed a football with a vague throwing motion.
Alec grabbed one of the metal folding chairs and sat across from him, their knees nearly touching. “How was last night? Get much sleep?”
Hunter glanced up, his eyes glassy with exhaustion, his mind obviously nowhere near game-ready. “I’m good.”
“Really?” Alec asked with obvious sarcasm. “You should have taken Lilliana up on her offer of a bed. What were you and Will getting into all night? Or did you sleep in the woods again?”
Hunter’s face tilted to the football in his hands, his non-answer frustrating but not unexpected. Hunter was loyal to his brother and to Falcon football. The loyalties couldn’t coexist, but an hour before a game wasn’t the time to press matters. Neither was it the time to put any more pressure on him. Scouting recruiters for two major programs would be in the stands.
Alec grabbed a whiteboard and went over plays. With each play and rapid-fire question Alec launched, Hunter grew more animated and engaged. By the time Coach Dalton called the meeting to order, Hunter was with his offensive line, pumping them up. The kid loved the game and was a natural leader on the field and in the locker room. He reminded Alec of himself before his head swelled with the fame.
Even if Hunter extricated himself from Will and left Mill Town behind, would he be able to avoid the pitfalls Alec knew awaited him? Maybe with Alec’s guidance, he would make better decisions than Alec had.
The first half proceeded according to Coach Dalton’s game plan. Breaks went their way, and Hunter didn’t have a bad pass. They led at half time by twenty-one points, and with the game seemingly in hand, worries about what to do when it was over intruded.
* * *
Negative. The two pregnancy sticks shook in her hands. She was still a couple of days before her expected cycle, but Brandy had assured her the early-detection kits were very accurate. Relief washed over her, followed by disappointment and maybe a little sadness.
She plopped onto the cold toilet seat. That was it, then. With a sense of finality weighing her, she dropped the used tests into the trash.
One hand fell to her stomach. Honestly, she’d never thought about having kids, and no doubt, she’d have been a panicked mess if the tests had been positive. Yet, the house seemed emptier, loneliness stalking the hallways. Besides a feral cat and an inanimate portrait she conversed with, she was alone.
For once, she didn’t bother with lights. Maybe Hancock House’s ghosts would offer some company. At least her occasional glass of red wine and whiskey were back on the table. She went downstairs and poured a tot of cinnamon whiskey, downing it in a swallow. The burn was like a shot of courage. Alec needed to know as soon as possible. She refused to let him think she was manipulating him.
He’d be thrilled. Any lingering guilt where she was concerned would be wiped away. In his mind, their connection was a single afternoon of sex. Great sex but not life altering. He would probably be ecstatic to leave it at that.
He’d laugh—his rusty, underused, heartbreakingly sexy laugh. His debt paid, he’d head back to his place to relax with pizza and a beer. His life tidy once more.
She had another shot. Instead of relaxing her, the whiskey only added to the nausea-inducing pit in her stomach. This needed to happen now.
After getting dressed, she took the path through the woods, the stadium lights guiding her through the darkness. Discordant notes from an enthusiastically played Sousa classic faded into the sonorous voice of the announcer, sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Halftime was over.
The stands were full. A cousin here and there waved as she made her way through the throng returning to their seats from the snack bar. Her aunt had parked herself on the bottom row at the fifty-yard line with the other librarians, including Darcy. Was she up to making polite conversation?
The waving arms of Jessica Wilde caught her attention. Lilliana slipped through the crowd and squeezed next to her, barely controlling the urge to cry on her friend’s shoulder—literally.
“Wasn’t sure you were coming.” Jessica’s grin faded into a worry-tinged smile. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not . . .” Lilliana shook her head and swallowed a lump of tears.
“That’s good, right?” Jessica looked as confused as Lilliana felt inside.
“Of course. Definitely.” Lilliana turned toward the field in time to see Hunter throw a perfect spiraling ball toward the end zone. The crowd held a collective breath. The ball fell into the receiver’s hands. Touchdown.
Everyone around her jumped up and cheered, blue-and-white pompoms ruffling in the air. Alec stood tall on the sideline, a clipboard under his arm, clapping and high-fiving the offense as they ran off the field after the extra point.
Jessica grabbed Lilliana’s arm and forced her around, a grim circle in a sea of celebration. Jessica’s voice rose above a whisper to be heard above the cacophony. “You’re upset. Why?”
She riffled through the conflicting emotions. “Even though Alec has only been hanging around out of guilt, it’s been . . . nice.”
Jessica’s voice took on a sharp edge, the one she used when negotiating deals. “How do you know he’s only been feeling guilty?”
“If he hadn’t thought I was—” Lilliana and Jessica took their seats along with the rest of the crowd. The camouflaging noise had dissipated, so Lilliana mouthed “knocked up,” then continued sotto voce, “then we would have grown old and shot dirty looks at each other in church, remembering our one sweaty, hot roll on the floor.”
Jessica’s lips twitched. “Technically two hot, sweaty rolls if you count college.”
“I don’t,” Lilliana clipped out.
“Let’s say he offered to help with your bathroom out of guilt, but that’s not why he’s dropping by anymore. What if he likes you?”
Something dangerous sprouted in Lilliana’s stomach. Something akin to hope. “I’m going to tell him after the game, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t see him until the final inspection.”
“Will you jump his bones again?” A wicked laugh snuck out of Jessica.
“No more bone jumping. Let’s talk about something else.�
� For the rest of the game, Lilliana stared at Alec and squirmed, crossing and recrossing her legs, standing and sitting, impatience and dread warring in her stomach.
When the buzzer sounded, Falcon had won big, but Lilliana had a hard time smiling, much less cheering. She and Jessica made their way to the locker rooms. Logan came out and pulled Jessica close, whispering in her ear. She giggled but pushed him away, shooting a look over her shoulder.
“What’s up, half-pint?” Logan knuckle rubbed the top of her head like they were still in elementary school.
“How do you put up with him?” Lilliana forced disdain into her tone and karate-chopped Logan’s arm away.
Jessica gave her a half-hug. “You want us to stay?”
“No, but I might require sympathy donuts in the morning.” She gave Jessica one last squeeze before shooing her away. Logan’s teasing and Jessica’s hugs had given her strength. She wasn’t alone.
Alec and Hunter walked out together, their heads close together, and judging by their hand movements, obviously discussing the game. She took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Great game, Hunter. Alec, can we talk? It’ll just take a sec.”
Alec’s brows drew in, and he seemed instantly on guard. “Sure. Go wait by my truck, Hunter.” He stepped forward, and she backed further into the shadows of an old set of aluminum bleachers.
“I took a test. Two actually. They were both negative.” The words came fast and furious.
He closed his eyes. His sigh deflated his entire body, and he braced a hand on a cross-support over his head. He looked dizzy with relief.
She forced her lips into a smile, hoping the shadows were deep enough to hide her tearing-up eyes. “You’ve been really nice and stuff, helping with bathroom, but I can handle it from here.”
His expression was difficult to read in the best of circumstances. In the shadows, it was damn near impossible. “What are you saying exactly?”
Melting into You Page 12
