“But,” he interjected, his tone solemn.
I swallowed heavily. “But . . . sometimes I wonder if being here for you in that way really helps at all.”
His fingertips raked along my jawline. “You’re all I have.”
It was a rare, sweet moment, and I savored it. “I’m here for you, always will be. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
He pulled us down so we were lying down on the mattress. My heart started to pound.
“It scares me sometimes . . . this secret connection we have.”
He gave no reaction, no indication he knew what I was talking about. He just watched me with his dark, hungry eyes.
“I love the way you fuck,” he murmured, trailing his fingertip down my neck. My heart rate spiked, even though I hated how he always managed to turn our encounters sexual. I knew what was coming.
“I have my period,” I said.
“And that’s a problem, why?” His answering grin was predatory and dominating. “You still have two other holes.”
“God, you’re a pig!” I sat up and threw a pillow at him.
“I’m kidding, woman.” He sat up too. “Are you . . . feeling okay? Need anything?”
“I’m fine, Shaw. I’m just not in the mood.” At least that much was true.
“Understood. Does this have anything to do with the other night at Hank’s?”
“No. Of course not,” I lied.
It definitely did, but I wasn’t even sure how to put it into words for him. Our flings had crossed into a gray area that where instead of feeling like I was helping him to heal, it felt like he was merely using me. And what lesson had he been trying to teach me? That he didn’t want me talking to other men? Given our current non-committed status, that wasn’t going to fly with me either.
“I said I was sorry about that, Sunshine.” His tone was softer, the glint in his eyes more sincere. “If I could return the favor to you right now, I would.”
“And you’d expect nothing in return?” I said, challenging him.
“Not a thing.”
Okay . . . now I was even more confused about how to feel. But for the time being, I stuck to my guns. I needed a break to clear my head.
“Honestly, that’s not why I’m here, anyhow.”
“No?” I lifted one eyebrow at him.
“You never responded to my text. I really did feel bad about how I acted at Hank’s. I might have had too much to drink that night.”
I waved him off. “I’m over it, Shaw. Let it be.” It was mostly true. I couldn’t stay mad at him long.
He nodded.
“Do you want to stay for a little while? Have a glass of wine?”
I nodded toward the tiny countertop in what I affectionately referred to as The World’s Smallest Kitchen. My brother had remodeled the one-bedroom suite upstairs last year into a studio by installing a mini-fridge and one stretch of countertop along a wall that held a microwave and my hot plate. Exciting stuff. But at least now I had my own space.
“Sure. Why not?” Shaw shrugged.
I hopped up from the bed and grabbed the bottle of red I’d opened earlier, thinking tonight was going to be a pity party for one. I poured us each a glass and carried them back over to the bed where Shaw was seated.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. I knew he wasn’t a red wine guy, so the fact that he was here, choosing to stay, choosing to spend time with me when sex wasn’t on the table, felt like a big deal.
“Thanks for staying.”
I hated the desperate lilt to my voice, but I had to remember that I’d been strong tonight. There wouldn’t be any sex. Just two friends reconnecting. Maybe this was the way to get him to see there could be more between us.
Maybe.
But it felt like a start. One I didn’t want to squander.
I took a sip of my wine and contemplated what to do, when it suddenly struck me.
I had to do the only thing I knew would ensure I didn’t give in to him. Wednesday night after work, I had to go out.
Chapter Eight
Shaw
The heat from the late afternoon sunshine beat down on my back. I’d been helping my crew clean boats all afternoon and was regretting not using sunscreen.
“Nice job today,” I said, tipping my ball cap as the newest member of my crew grabbed the last of the gear and trash left behind in a pontoon rental.
“Thanks, boss,” he said, hefting the items out past me and scurrying away.
With the bright sunlight, the gentle hum of the waves, the occasional call from a seagull, you’d think my thoughts would have been serene and tranquil. My mind was on other things, however. The deep, dark void inside me that sought solace in the company of Chloe. She was my sanctuary. And since she denied me the last time we were together, I was more than ready to be done with work for the day to partake in our ritual.
After a quick shower, I swung by that taco stand Chloe liked and picked us up some chicken-and-quinoa tacos with the green salsa she loved, along with a six-pack of beer, and headed to her place. It was just after six o’clock, and while I was early, I knew her routine well enough to predict that she was done with her workday and probably upstairs showering. That was fine. I could have a beer and wait.
Except there was no answer at her door. I sent her a text as I made my way downstairs. Maybe she was still working, or just hanging out with her brother. I knocked at the door to the main house and stood there holding our dinner. No answer there, either.