The Blush Factor (The Hawthornes of New York 2) - Page 31

He was looking out for me.

As much as I appreciate that, part of me wanted him to go all jealous caveman and tell me not to sleep with Rich.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

“You can tell me about school,” he says as he pushes to his feet. “Is it kicking your ass the way it kicked mine?”

I drop my gaze to his ass since it’s now in view because he’s on his way to the kitchen with a handful of dirty dishes.

“I like school,” I admit. “It’s hard, but it’s supposed to be, right?”

“Is it?” he asks as he sets the dishes into his sink. “I thought you were breezing through it with nary a blink of an eye.”

“Nary a blink of an eye?”

“Fairy tale talk.” He smiles at me as he approaches the table again. “I read those to my nieces. It rubs off on me.”

“Did you get through school with nary the blink of an eye?”

He tilts his chin down. “What do you think?”

“Honestly?”

“I fear it’s going to hurt, but give it to me straight, FU.”

I smile at the nickname. “I think you hated school.”

“I hated parts of it,” he clarifies. “I loved other aspects of it.”

“The girls?” I ask without thinking.

Knowing that I’m blushing, I instantly drop my gaze to my lap.

“The girls?” he repeats back slowly. “You need to explain that one, Faith.”

I don’t want to. I don’t want to so badly that I silently wish I had met up with Rich. That would have been less embarrassing than this.

“You know what I mean,” I whisper, keeping my gaze on the thighs of my jeans.

“Look at me,” he demands in a soft tone.

My head is instantly drawn up until my eyes meet his.

He rests one hand on the table. The other jumps to the back of the chair I’m sitting in. I’m pinned in place by not only his body but also the intensity in his eyes.

“Are you asking if I enjoyed spending time with women when I was in college?”

The question is direct, and I don’t see a way out of answering, so I softly nod. “Yes.”

“I did,” he answers succinctly.

“With Professor Stein?” I sigh. “Was she someone you enjoyed spending time with?”

A grin ghosts his sinfully sexy mouth. “I explained she was a friend, but you’re asking if there was more between us.”

It’s not a question, so I sit in silence, hoping the topic will evaporate into the ether, so we can discuss anything but this.

He moves slightly until his lips are hovering dangerously close to mine. With his brown eyes searing into me, he draws in a deep breath. “I’ve never fucked Erin.”

Hearing that word from him in that context shoots straight to my core.

A pulse of need jolts through me, causing me to squirm in my chair.

“Something tells me you’re wondering if our friendship has to do with your professor,” he goes on. “Allow me to clear up any confusion for you.”

I nod, keeping my eyes on his mouth because holy hell is it tempting me.

“My attraction to you, Faith, has nothing to do with anyone but you.”

Attraction?

I swallow hard because what? Is any of this real?

“You’re attracted to me?”

He lets out a laugh. “It seems the cat is out of the bag.”

I shift slightly to get just a touch closer to him. “I’m attracted to you too.”

There’s no surprise in his expression at all. I see intensity and what looks like need reflecting back at me in his eyes.

His gaze wanders my face stopping at my lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s slammed shut before a sound escapes him.

I take that as him being speechless because he’s consumed by need for me.

It might be a stretch, but I’ve never taken a chance like this, so I reach a tentative hand up to cup his cheek. I move even closer to him, lured by my body’s desire to feel his lips pressed against mine.

He inches closer too, but it’s not to kiss me.

He rests his forehead against mine, exhales with a sharp groan, and whispers words I don’t want to hear. “We can’t do that, Faith. We can’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Matthew

For Christ’s sake.

This is the moment I decide to sprout a goddamn conscience?

Where the fuck was it when I was reading her diary?

I see disappointment swimming in her eyes. Humiliation is there too, and it slays me.

I take a step back, and she’s up. It’s that fucking fast. She’s on her feet, ready to bolt, but I stop her with a hand on her wrist.

“I have to say something,” I growl the words out, wishing I could ignore my need to do the right thing, but I can’t.

I fucking can’t because she deserves more than that.

She’s waited this long to share her body with a man, and I won’t be the guy who takes that from her under false pretenses.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Hawthornes of New York Romance
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