I groaned in frustration, forcing away the sensual pictures forming in my mind, and turned onto my side.
I could still taste her. I could still feel the silky texture of her skin beneath my fingertips, recall in vivid detail the way she’d shivered in my arms as she came.
And it wasn’t enough.
God, the way she made me feel. It was . . . I didn’t even know what it was, because it wasn’t only physical. I liked to talk to her. I liked to hear her thoughts and listen to her stories. I wanted more of her kindness, her insight, and the understanding she held in her gaze.
Oh God, what was happening to me?
I rolled onto my back, bringing the pillow over my face and then, as a thought came to me, I removed the pillow, my eyes opening and hope descending.
I’d helped Haven gain Gage’s attention by increasing the challenge. Maybe, on some level I hadn’t even acknowledged, I was responding to that challenge too.
I frowned. That didn’t feel quite right. Still . . . this didn’t have to be complicated. I was good at simple. Hell, before I’d decided that maybe it was time to start thinking about settling down, simple had practically been my middle name.
I was making far too much of this. So, I liked her. I liked things about her I hadn’t liked about other women before. Different. Seemingly deeper.
Which spoke to the fact that we really were friends.
Plus, she was only here temporarily. And suddenly that felt like a relief.
I was swearing off relationships for the time being, but did I have to swear off women? Did I have to swear off simple?
Forget that she had feelings for Gage. A mist of red clouded my gaze momentarily and I wondered vaguely if anyone would notice one more “barn cat” grave dotting the property of The Yellow Trellis Inn.
Then again . . . did she really have feelings for Gage Buchanan? She didn’t even know him. My muscles unclenched. At least we were friends. My lips curved into a slow smile that dropped quickly.
I lay there for a few more minutes, wallowing in the confusion, the self-consciousness of being on unsteady ground. I’d never known what vulnerability felt like—not when it came to a woman. And I’d never willingly gone toward vulnerability of any kind. In fact, I’d gone to great lengths to avoid it. So why was I even considering walking toward it now?
Because I was grasping for certainty. And the only thing I felt sure of at the moment was that I wanted her. More than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life.
And that’s what propelled me to my feet and out the door of my room.
Down the hall, Haven came out of her room. I halted, our eyes meeting, flaring. But then I saw the relief in her expression.
My heart leapt. I walked toward her, her lips parting as she stayed rooted to the spot, her hand still wrapped around her doorknob as though it was the only thing holding her up.
So many emotions warred in her expression, and we simply stared at each other for a few moments, neither seeming to know what to say.
“Slightly complicated isn’t . . . isn’t as bad as it sounds,” she finally said. “We’re making too much of this.”
Funny, I’d convinced myself of something along similar lines just a few moments before and yet, hearing it from her scraped something inside, the words like sandpaper.
Never mind that . . . I wanted her with a desperation I wasn’t sure what to do with and so I nodded, accepting what I’d been offered. “No strings,” I said. “No promises.”
She visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping. “That’s my motto,” she whispered, and then she took my hand and led me into her room.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Haven
There was no need for preamble. We both knew why he was here in my room. I’d talked myself out of it over and over, until my desire for him was pitched so sky high, my feet had seemingly taken it upon themselves to put the rest of my body out of its misery.
And then to know that he’d been on his way to me, was like the sweetest relief I’d ever known.
I wasn’t going to look too hard at this. I was leaving town soon enough, and he was far from available anyway.
Don’t think.
Don’t think.
Just be here.
With Travis. With this beautiful, layered man who isn’t really your friend, but also can never be more.
He moved in, his fingers weaving through my hair as he took my face in his hands and brought his lips to mine. I reached around his neck and drew him closer and we kissed and tasted each other’s mouths for long, drugging minutes.
When our mouths broke, chests heaving, his gaze was shiny with lust and so much focus it made my pulse jump. Wordlessly, he reached down, lifting the hem of my long T-shirt and I raised my arms, watching his face as he lifted it over my head and dropped it to the floor.