A fresh burst of anger fired her feet across the rug. Lori stopped inches away from Gray. "You think I don't know that? I hate it. Hate it that I still want you. Hate it that you've exploded back into my life, my senses, my mind all over again." She watched him wince, knowing full well her words simultaneously stabbed and caressed, a dichotomy of pain and pleasure that had been signature to their relationship almost from the start. "Gray, I may hate it, but that doesn't make me stop wanting you."
"Geez, Lori." His voice strangled off as he raised his hands in surrender. "Don't go there. Not now."
"Don't go there? I could have used those sage words of advice five minutes ago. One stupid little kiss and I'm a mess all over again." The heat of him reached to her, wrapped around her with a pervasive power she couldn't avoid. She held both palms up in the scarce space between them. "Hands still shaking, Gray."
He clasped her hands in his. "Stop it, Lori."
"No, you stop it." Her voice rose as she struggled to jerk free.
He held tight. "Stop what? You're not making any sense. I was trying to leave."
"You were running away. That's different."
"What would staying have accomplished? The two of us making a mistake."
"At least it would be an honest mistake. We've always had that, right … honesty?" She closed the last step between them. With each gasping breath, her br**sts brushed him, touched him, tempted him as well as herself. "Can you honestly say you don't want me?"
A dark smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. "Oh, honey, I want you."
"Don't you laugh at me." Lori tried to tug free again, her arms straining.
"I'm not." His grin twitched.
His ever-ready smile pushed her over the edge. That damn gorgeous Barbie house hadn't helped, bringing up memories and dreams best left dormant. Why couldn't he be serious for once?
As if that wasn't enough, she'd circled right back around to a discussion of the past, remembering all the hopes she'd once pinned on Gray. Seeing those sexy hands sticking racing stripes all over a Big Wheel had been too explosive.
She'd be damned if she would cry herself to sleep tonight like some pitiful sap. She had better plans for finding forgetfulness.
Gray had known they couldn't spend two minutes together without stirring emotions too deep to bear, yet he'd insisted they spend the day together. Well, now he could suffer the consequences. And she looked forward to making him pay—for hours, naked, on her sofa just like old times.
Lori broke free. "You do want me. At least give me that much."
"Damn straight. I said just that in your guest room not three hours ago."
"Fine," she snapped the word out like a bullet. "Then let's do it, pal." Lori yanked her shirt out of her pants and whipped it over her head before giving herself time to change her mind. "Me and you, on the sofa, let's tangle it up right now for honest, steamy, screaming sex."
Gray looked as if that gut shot might be leveling him. His eyes glowed to life, warming over every patch of revealed skin. Her hair tickled along her back, and she imagined his hands there, soon.
He closed his eyes, swallowed heavily. Lori waited, hope and an odd fear curling through her like tendrils of smoke. He opened his eyes, resolution radiating in waves.
For or against? She couldn't decide what scared her more, his staying or leaving. Lori's br**sts tightened in anticipation beneath her ivory silk bra. Her stomach twisted like a wrung-out sponge reminding her what a hollow victory this would be. "Gray?"
"Negative."
Devastation crashed over her, chilling every inch of her bared body. "What?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "No. You deserve more than this, and you know it. I should go."
Should go? Not going to leave.
Should go.
She aimed straight for that tiny chink in his defenses. "Let me decide what I deserve. I'm not asking for anything beyond right now. What's holding you back, Major, if you really do want me?"
She grabbed his wrist and flattened his hand to her waist. On contact they both flinched. Had lightning sparked through the room? Her toes tingled. Even the roots of her hair seemed to crackle.
His palm trailed from her waist to her belly, halting on the vulnerable place just below her rib cage. Skin to skin, they yearned. She didn't have to ask or wonder. His need transmitted through that simple caress in a communication she hadn't forgotten in a year apart.