Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

His hard body pinned me to the door, chest to chest, as his hand curled around mine to stop my escape. Heat flushed through me, and I forced my whimper of need back down my throat when he pressed his forehead to my temple.

“I can’t bear it,” he said, his voice gruff. “I can’t bear it if I lose you. I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. It’s like walking around without an arm.”

Willing to say anything that would cease the touching, the torture, the temptation, I whispered, “I suppose we could try to be friends again.”

“Is that why you’re avoiding me? Because you want to be just friends?”

“Michael, that’s not fair.”

He turned his head so his cheek was pressed to my cheek, his lips touching my ear. “I love when you say my name. I dream about it. I dream about being with you as you whisper my name.”

Every part of my body came alive in a flare of ardor like someone had struck several matches across my skin. My breasts seemed to swell against his chest, the nipples tightening into little buds that were probably obvious through my cotton dress.

And I couldn’t even bear to acknowledge the slick, sudden heat between my legs.

Why did it have to be him?

“Michael … we can’t. What about Gary?”

He lifted his head and our eyes connected. I knew that whatever was between us was more than physical. It was so much more, it hurt. And it had the torturous side effect of making our physical attraction feverish. “He cheated on you. He’s my boy but … This is so much more than what I thought it was, Dahlia. Now he doesn’t get a say in this. He fucked up. I want a chance to do better than him. So much better you’ll never want to let me go.”

He dipped his head, his lips hovering near mine as his hand traveled up my arm. “I miss you,” he repeated. “You’re all I think about.”

My eyes burned with tears because I’d never dreamed that I’d feel this way about someone and have him feel the same way. Why did he have to screw it up before we even got a chance? “You hurt Dillon, and she’s my sister.”

“I’m sorry,” he groaned. “Fuck, I’ve never been sorrier for anything in my whole life. But we’re not talking about some quick fuck here. What we have is worth whatever shit we have to deal with to hold onto it.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that to her.”

Michael pushed off the door and away from me. He glowered, his face taut with frustration. “This isn’t about upsetting Dillon. What she and I did hardly qualified as dating, and you know it. You’re pissed at me for going there in the first place, and now you’re punishing me!”

Rage flooded me. “Of course, I’m pissed! You pulled my kid sister into our shit!”

“Our shit? Our shit! This is our lives, our future, we’re talking about, Dahlia.”

“I just want to know why! Why her? When you knew how I felt about you?”

“Knew how you felt?” His voice got scarily soft.

I pressed further against the door, hoping I’d melt into it.

“That night you called me, and we nearly kissed in the parking lot, who was it that pulled away and said she couldn’t do it? I didn’t pull away and say I couldn’t. I was seconds away from betraying my best friend, and at that moment I didn’t fuckin’ care, if it meant I got to be with you. I took it to mean that even if you were attracted to me, you wanted Gary more. I dated Dillon before I found out about your breakup. She reminded me of you a little. It was fucked up, I know that, but I’ve been fucked up over you for a long time.”

That heat, the wet, between my legs increased and I could hear how short and shallow my breathing had gotten. “I pulled away that night because of you. Not because of me. I knew what your friendship with Gary meant to you, and I didn’t want to come between you. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt.”

He was silent a moment. Brooding. Intense. Too sexy for his own good. “And that’s why I feel how I feel for you. But you should know I’ve felt guilty from the moment I realized you were Gary’s girlfriend. Guilty because I resented him for meeting you first. And I tried to make my feelings for you go away.” He shrugged. “But they won’t go away, Dahlia.”

How was I supposed to resist that?

How?

But Dillon, my mom …

Jesus Christ.

“Do you want me or not?” he asked.

I should lie.