His Fire Inside - Page 19

I knew my trying to freeze her out was hurting her, only I told myself it was the right thing to do, to keep her away from me. When I saw her eyes light up when I walked in the room, it shook me at how happy it made me. Only it was wrong, for the both of us. I had to put space between us, make it clear it couldn’t happen not just for her, but for me too.

The problem is, it hasn’t worked. I have to find my equilibrium again, I haven’t found it away from her; maybe it will take being near her to find it.

“I’m busier than I thought I would be. With the new people at my downtown hotel, and I’ve been roped into more panels since people have seen me around since I came back. There’s actually a meeting at six in the morning tomorrow I’ll have to be at.”

My mother’s eyes glow a bright amber, the way they do when she’s very happy or excited. “Dear, this is your home. You never have to ask permission to stay in it. You know I love having you here. Fair warning, Olivia is almost as much of a night owl as you are. She’s taken to her late-night swims and sometimes she’ll be up reading the night away. Just please, try and be nicer to her.”

I nod, not able to meet her eye. “I’m going to run and pack a few things, then come back for the night.”

“I’m tuckered out, it’s straight to bed for me. I’ll be asleep when you get home.”

I hesitate. “Maybe I should wait until Olivia gets home.”

“No need. I really am going straight to bed.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll probably be gone before you get up.”

“Good night, dear.”

***

Olivia

I’m not surprised the house is dark when I get home, although I do feel guilty. It’s a little after ten. My head is still pounding and my eyes have only just stopped hurting from all the crying I did on Gabe’s shoulder. There was a lot of Gabe reassuring me it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, and even more of me telling him it was actually worse than that. When Gabe got a booty text he ignored it, but I knew it was time to leave. I was tired of crying over something that felt like it was out of my hands anyway. In my room I strip, then grab my toweling robe. A swim sounds perfect right now.

I dive into the deep end then begin a few slow laps. Then I swim below the surface, reveling in the heated water all around me. After a while I finally feel better. Rolling onto my back, I gaze up at the stars, kicking my feet a bit and moving my arms from time to time to stay above water. It’s crazy that in the heat of the pool I get goose bumps and shiver. I feel like someone is watching me, but it can’t be. The fence is a seven foot solid wood privacy fence, and none of the houses are two stories for blocks.

“Fuck.” With my ears below the water the word is cushioned, but it’s still so loud it stops my heart for a moment at what it means. I jackknife from floating and my feet are searching desperately for solid ground, but there’s nothing. I’m in the deep end on the other side of the pool, and by the time I grab for the edge of the pool I hear the sliding glass door close.

Oh god, oh god, Rourke saw me naked. He saw me naked and then he ran away. What is the matter with you? Don’t get your feelings—hurt it was a good thing. I wonder if I can stay in here forever, or if I should make a run for my room and stay in there forever, or if I should grab my robe and make for Gabe’s place and text Rourke that I quit. My head falls to the edge of the pool with an ow-inspiring thud. At least that answers one question. Despite what he might have said, when it came down to it, my body was far from perfect and he didn’t want it.

Slowly I swim to the shallow, end then step out of the pool. I wrap my robe around me, cinching it tight enough to leave a bruise. Opening the sliding glass door, I find the house dark, the only light coming from my bedroom where I left the door partially open. I slip into the hall bathroom and rinse off the salt water quickly, then brush my teeth. The sight of Rourke’s toiletries laid out next to mine feels intimate. He’s sleeping here now, for the next two to three weeks. It’s seven steps from my door to his, I counted.

Out of the bathroom, I go into my bedroom then close the door. I find clean panties and my sleep shirt and put them on. Turning out the light, I climb into bed but my mind refuses to shut off; it keeps going over Rourke’s exclamation before he fled. I know I didn’t hear the door open, and it’s usually loud. Wouldn’t I have heard it if I were just floating like I was? I’m sure I would have.

Then I recall the moment I felt like I was being watched. I was. It was only two minutes, maybe three, but he’d watched me. Rourke hadn’t taken one look at me and ran. He took his sweet-ass time looking me over, then...what? Did he come to his senses or something? I have no idea if it’s better or worse knowing he hadn’t just run when he saw me naked. Because now all I can do is wonder: if he had taken his time, did that mean he liked what he saw?

9

Rourke

Doreen waves her hand in front of my face. Damn it. I try to focus on what she’s saying, but it isn’t easy. I’m exhausted. I didn’t get any sleep last night, I spent it in a perpetual state of need with my cock hard half the damn night. My mind unable to stop thinking of Olivia naked in the pool, floating like a freaking mermaid, with a damn full moon re

vealing every inch of her body. When I realized she was in the pool, I should have backed away as quietly as I could. I was going to, really, I was. Until I saw her.

Fuck, my cock is instantly hard, all over again. To see what I’ve been dreaming about, fantasizing over for what feels like fucking forever but has only—no way has it only been three weeks—but my calendar confirms it. The sight of her body, besides causing me sleepless nights, is now turning me into a waking fool. Fantasy had nothing on the real thing. Her body is art, her body is invitation to sin, and it’s imprinted on my fucking brain.

Closing my eyes tight, I run my hand over my eyes. I need to fire Olivia Casey. I need to get her as far away from me as humanly possible. Only I can’t because it’s not her fault I want to fuck her so badly. I can’t because she’s breathed new life and happiness into my mother. I can’t because I don’t want to. I don’t want her farther away from me than where I can reach out and touch her. And I’ve never felt this way before. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. If I give in, break my rule for her, what comes next? Two weeks, three weeks, until my mom is better? And then there’s my mom, there’s no way she won’t know, and if I don’t put a ring on Olivia’s finger for having had her I’ll lose my mother’s respect, probably forever.

With a curse the door slams behind Doreen. Damn it. I look down at my desk to see the projections for the next three weeks on my hotels. Sighing, I open the one on my downtown hotel. I should have been paying attention to these. Besides dinner, I’ve only been to the hotel once since I put Valentina and Anthony in charge. I haven’t received a single text or phone call questioning policy or procedure or what should be done. It doesn’t mean there hasn’t been trouble. I check the clock: five thirty. Perfect timing.

Once again Becky picks up. “Becky, it’s Rourke. Are you busy at the front?”

“Hello, sir, no. I’m good to talk.”

“Excellent, tell me how things are going with Valentina and Anthony.”

“Amazing, sir, better than I think we all hoped for. The first day or two it was a little umm, I think there was a little friction, then they spent like half the day in the office. Once they came out it’s been great ever since. They work really well together and have each other’s back. If we ask them both a question we get the same answer. That didn’t even happen with Denise.”

Tags: Fiona Murphy Romance
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