Her excitement hit a wall, crashed, and burned. He’d come back for exactly what she’d promised him: no-strings sex. And ten minutes ago, that would have been enough. Now . . .
“You’re right about us,” she said quietly, “turning down the heat now will make your leaving more bearable.”
His jaw muscle jumped, but he held her gaze and gave a single, slight nod, not so much agreement as acknowledgment. A sensation of loss clawed at her gut, and she was suddenly overcome with a frantic sort of angst to explain—to him and to herself.
“I may not be cut out for the fling thing after all. I mean, it’s what I wanted when we started. It’s still what I probably need, considering how I feel about marriage and commitment, and you know, relationships in general, but what just happened, that . . . exchange of me wanting you and you walking away . . .”
She shook her head and gave a little shrug. “It was too . . . familiar in a really ugly way. And, somewhere over the last two months, I guess . . . I don’t know.” She blew out a breath, frustrated that she couldn’t spit out her words in any sort of comprehendible way. “I just know I care too much about you to keep sleeping with you under that arrangement.”
He nodded again but still didn’t move, and Avery was trying to think of something else to say, some way of explaining her Jekyll-and-Hyde behavior, sure he had to be regretting getting involved with someone so inexperienced, so . . . naive.
“Me, too.” His words came out rough.
Confused, she shook her head. “You, too, what?”
“I care too much, too. That’s why I didn’t leave.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, flexed and released his fingers from the door frame. “What if we didn’t go cold turkey when the project ends?” He lifted his gaze to hers. “What if we just, you know, let whatever this is run its course? When you decide you want something more, you move on.”
Her heart squeezed, and she huffed a sad laugh. “And what if I decide you’re everything I want? Then where will we be? In even deeper?” She shook her head. “No, I—”
“I can live with that.”
She dropped her arms and narrowed her eyes, frustration rising. “Live with what? What are you talking about?”
He did that silent jaw-jumping, intent-staring thing again.
She lifted her hands, palms up. “Trace—”
“I know I should walk away. I know you deserve better. I just . . . I got to the door, and the thought of going home and fighting through another sleepless night was too much. I’m not ready to let you go. I will if that’s what you want, but . . . if I’m making decisions based on what I want, I definitely want more of you.”
Her lips parted, but her brain and her heart tumbled into free fall. She couldn’t find or form words.
When she didn’t respond, Trace’s expression took on a spark of hope, and he took his damn sweet time sauntering toward her. “And if you want to keep it a secret to minimize the flak you’ll get from your family, that’s fine. It doesn’t need to be public. We can keep it just between you and me.”
He was standing right in front of her now, less than a foot away. And even though he didn’t reach for her, his eyes flashed with affection and vulnerability.
“Just tell me no, and I’ll be gone.” He lifted his hand to her jaw and cradled her face. His gaze searched her eyes, expectant, hopeful. “Say something, Avery.”
She couldn’t. Her throat had swelled tight, and she had to drag in shaky breaths. Avery fisted her hands in the front of his T-shirt and took a step across the distance separating them, pulling him in.
Their mouths met with a force that made Trace sway, but he immediately wrapped Avery in a fierce hold and opened to her demand with a long, low growl, the sound part passion, part relief.
The kiss took on a life of its own, lips sliding, tongues stroking, filling Avery’s chest with pressure. Her mind wiped clear of everything but Trace—the way he held her like he wanted their bodies to fuse, the way they fit, the warmth and strength of him, his taste, his smell.
His shirt was halfway up his chest by the time she realized she was pulling at it. And he broke the kiss for only a second to let the fabric pass over his head. Avery braced herself when he kissed her again, but she still bowed backward over his arm.
She gripped his biceps, slid her hands over his shoulders, wrapped her forearms at his neck. God, she’d never been wanted like this. And now she didn’t know how she’d lived without all this passion in her life for so long.
He broke the kiss, leaned away to grab the hem of her T-shirt, then froze. He was breathing hard, his eyes narrowed. “Is this my shirt?”
Avery stroked her hands over his abdomen and up his chest, then leaned in to press a kiss over his heart. “You left it here, and it now has a very purposeful life as my sleep shirt. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, which means it’s now officially mine.”
His gaze jumped to hers. “I haven’t seen this shirt in over a month.”
She slid her hands around his waist and let them roam over the warm muscles of his back. “What’s your point?”
“You’ve been sleeping in my shirt
for a month?”