Dirty Deal (Perfectly Matched 2) - Page 17

But she couldn’t get through a moment of the day without wondering what the hell she was going to do about him. What she did know was that, no matter how good it was, she couldn’t sleep with him again. He was leaving for Afghanistan in a few more weeks, and beyond their two dates and the last photo shoot, she’d really have no cause to see him before he left. That was a good thing. She kept letting her guard down around him, and every time she did, it was harder to rise back up again. A sure recipe for heartache.

If he tried to make another move on her, she’d just have to let him down easy—nothing she hadn’t done dozens of times before.

At last, his truck slowed to a stop in front of her house, and she stepped outside before he had the chance to get out of the car and make his way to the front door. That would’ve felt too much like a real date.

She opened the truck door and then looked at the step. She had forgotten about this part when she’d chosen to don a micromini for the occasion, and if she was going to haul her ass into the cab, it wouldn’t be without him getting yet another look at her cookie.

“Need some help?” He popped the car into park and got out without waiting for her reply. Within seconds, he was standing next to her, his warm hand on her forearm. Jesus, what if he kissed her hello?

“Uh…”

He didn’t wait for a response but hoisted her up to her seat in one smooth motion before striding back to the driver’s side. God, he was strong. She might have been sure of her options, but her stupid organs clearly had minds of their own. Her heart thumped harder in her chest with every passing second, her stomach ached, and the heat of his touch lingered on her skin, even as he settled back into his seat.

“Thanks for that.” She swallowed hard.

Shit, shit, shit. Get it together.

But the other part of her brain was too busy sifting through sensations—the leathery cinnamon smell of him that lingered in the air. The light stubble on his jaw that made her mouth water.

“How’ve you been?” he asked. Like they were friends. Like he didn’t notice how completely fucking bizarre she must have been acting.

Get a hold of yourself, woman.

“Me?” she snorted. “I’m grrreat.”

Just like Tony the Tiger. She barely resisted the urge to lean forward and bash her head against the dashboard in frustration. As aware as she was that her behavior was getting weirder by the second, she couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Good,” he muttered absently and then leaned forward to toy with the radio.

For the first time, she realized something was a little off about him, too. In fact, he hadn’t made eye contact or even really looked in her direction since he’d pulled up. And not only had he not mentioned her behavior, he seemed too preoccupied to even notice it.

Was Bryan’s brain buzzing with ideas of how to make sure they didn’t wind up in bed together again, too? It was true he’d left before she’d gotten up the next morning, and he’d avoided the topic just as skillfully as she had, but it had been so intimate that night.

Maybe it just hadn’t been as good for him as it was for her.

She wrestled the thought away. Over the past days, it had come up more and more, but she knew it couldn’t be right. She’d had guys camped out on her lawn for a week trying to get back into her bed. There was no doubting she was dynamite in the sack.

Maybe he just didn’t like her.

That thought had come up a lot too, but something told her that wasn’t quite it, either. As far as she could tell, Bryan liked her as much, well, as much as she liked him. Which was exactly why she had to get this out of the way.

His reasons didn’t matter. Better to take the bull by the horns and get it all out there, so they could both start acting normal again, or it was going to be an excruciating night.

“Listen, uh, I think we need to talk about the other night.” She held her head high, no matter how low the rest of her felt.

“Yeah, me, too.” His words were as thoughtful as her own, which was fine. Better than fine. If they were both on the same page, that would only make things easier. So why did she still have a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?

“Is that so?” she pressed on.

“Yeah, but how about you go first?” They turned into the main part of town, speeding past all the rickety gift shops. She stared at one after the other, willing the universe to give her a speech that would make sense.

After they passed the fourth thrift shop in a row, she started, “I’ve put a lot of thought into this. Bryan, you’ve been really nice. And the other night was…fun. However, I think it would be best if—” She took a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. “We can’t ever sleep together again.”

The words were finally out, but the relief she’d been so looking forward to never came. What she did feel was hard to say, since all of her attention was now focused on Bryan, who had finally decided to look at her.

He wore a strange expression. Not angry or upset. He sort of looked…amused. She was about to open her mouth and continue, but he cut her off, not with his hand but with a raised eyebrow and a half smirk.

“I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you there,” he said.

She stared at him for a long moment and then blinked. Okay, so maybe they weren’t on the same page, but… “Um, there’s nothing to disagree with. It wasn’t an opinion-type deal. I’m telling you, we’re not going to sleep together again.”

She should have been angry. She should have been annoyed. Hell, she should have been a lot of things, but mostly she was…strangely aroused and feeling rather giddy.

She’d had men try to get her to change her mind about walking away a lot of different ways. Bartering. Remorse. Bribery. Outright refusal was a new one. His confidence, combined with the cocksure half smile on his face, left her with her mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Am I being unclear or…?”

“You’re being clear, all right. You’re telling me that you don’t think you want to sleep with me again. That doesn’t mean we’re not going to. It just means that you’re fooling yourself.”

She took in his profile, remembering how that firm mouth felt on her skin and how those strong hands felt on her hips, but then shook it off. The fact that she was still craving him afte

r she’d already had him was just another reason to run the other way. She was halfway to a Bryan Metcalf addiction, and that kind of dependence on any guy was a surefire train to Misery, population one.

“Well, we are apparently going to have to agree to disagree, then,” she said primly, raising her eyebrows in an expression she hoped would mirror his. Confident. Sure.

Sooo sexy.

He pulled up to the old high school and stopped in the very back of the parking lot.

“Fine by me.” He unlatched his seat belt and slid from his place, and while she tried to do the same, he was already at her side of the car before she could beat him to the punch.

Without another word, he held out his hand to help her down, and she reluctantly took it, though she knew there was no avoiding his seeing her panties as she jumped from her seat.

All the way through the parking lot, he never released her hand, and when she finally tried to pull away, he leaned in close and whispered, “Dating, remember? What would people think?”

His hot breath against her ear sent memories of their nights together surging to all the wrong places, making her more aware of his touch than ever. Damn him.

When they finally reached the door to the high school, he turned to face her and stared down at her for a long minute. With every second that passed without speech, she felt that much stronger.

Sure, she was holding his hand still, but she could desensitize herself to that. This would be fine, no matter what he thought. By next week, sleeping with Bryan would be a very distant memory.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” And she was. Ready to be done with it. Ready to put an end to the constant sexual torment he seemed determine to put her through. He started toward the door, then paused and pulled her in again.

“What now?” she breathed. “Did you forget to tell me that the guys on the football team used to call you Scooter or something?”

Tags: Christine Bell Perfectly Matched Erotic
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