Beah saw a flash of relief in his eyes, and Finn punched the number to his floor. And then he returned to kissing the hell out of her.
Because, yes, this was the way they communicated best. The only way they could.
Keely Matthews walked out of her bathroom and looked at the huge mass of male gorgeousness lying facedown on her California king and sighed. Dare Seymour, broad back, wide shoulders, muscular legs and an ass that was pure perfection, lay with his head in his arms, asleep.
There was nothing she wanted more than to curl up beside him, rest her head on his shoulder and drift off.
She was tired, too, pleasantly so. Two bouts of stupendous sex had her feeling loose and relaxed and a little affectionate. She didn’t mind one and two; three was unacceptable.
She was not going to allow herself to go all gooey-eyed over Lawyer Seymour. He was too masculine, too attractive, too sigh-worthy, and Keely wasn’t the type to go all mushy over men.
Especially men she didn’t think she liked.
Or men she liked too much.
Oh God.
Keely leaned her shoulder into the doorframe and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. She should never have started sleeping with Dare, but resisting him was impossible. The man had superior kissing skills. His skill at French kissing was exceeded only by his skill in the bedroom.
And because sex was a fine way to catch feelings, she often found herself slipping into affection, thinking about him when she shouldn’t, spending far too much time reliving their naked time.
She had to take a step back. Keely did not want a relationship and she most especially didn’t want a relationship with someone as hardheaded, stubborn and bossy as Dare.
There was only room in a relationship for one bossy person, and that was normally her role. Keely knew she wasn’t to everyone’s taste. Her managing ways and her bull-in-a-china-shop approach frequently didn’t win her any friends. As a teenager and young adult she’d genuinely tried to be less bossy but her good intentions always dissolved after a week, or month, or two.
She couldn’t help it if she saw issues clearly, if the solutions to problems just popped into her head. And yes, maybe she could keep her opinions to herself, but why should she watch the people she cared about suffer when she had the answers?
Keely knew she was difficult; she’d been told that many times on many occasions. And all her relationships followed a similar pattern—her lovers told her they could cope with a strong woman, that her assertiveness turned them on, and she took them at their word.
But after two months, three, they all started complaining, telling her she was too over-the-top, too managing, too much.
And they packed up their stuff and walked out of her life, leaving her not-so-tough heart shredded.
After many tears and having her heart dented and dinged, she’d learned to keep all her love affairs on the surface and bed-based; that way she couldn’t get hurt. And Dare Seymour, her lumberjack-looking lawyer, was not going to be the latest in a long line to drop-kick her heart.
Walk over to him, wake him up and kick him out. C’mon, Keely, you can’t let him sleep over...
“Let me guess—you are about to kick me out.” Dare’s words were muffled but she heard his aggravated mumble. He rolled over and pushed his way up in the bed, looking ruffled and sexy. Keely fought the urge to straddle him, to place her mouth on his and taste him again...
Dare ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes sharp. “We’ve been sleeping together for six weeks, Keely. Surely I can sleep over without the sky falling down?”
Keely stared at her bare feet. Sure, he could, but sleepovers were for people in relationships, not for casual lovers. And she had to keep Dare very casual indeed.
Keely lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I don’t like people in my space.”
Dare linked his arms across his flat stomach and Keely was grateful the sheet covered his groin area. A bare-chested Dare was distracting enough; Dare in all his glorious nakedness would be too much to resist. “Cut the crap. You’re just scared.”
Keely forced herself to lift one, just one, arrogant eyebrow. “Nothing about you scares me, Seymour.”
Dare had the temerity to smile. “Oh, honey, everything about me scares you.”
Keely tipped her head to the side and ignored her tumbling heart. “Are you experiencing a rush of blood to your head? An aneurysm? A little brain episode? Because you’re acting weird.”
“You’re using sarcasm to avoid the subject. You’re scared of me because I’m strong enough, man enough, to cope with your sharp tongue and pushy personality.”
That’s what they all said, and she’d trusted them enough to believe her previous lovers. Then they bailed. They always bailed.
She wasn’t stupid enough to believe Dare would be the exception to the rule.