“What did you mean earlier?” I ask her.
“What do you mean?”
I roll my eyes. “You know what you said. You insinuated that I walk away from you, I assume, like it’s a joke.”
Her cheeks flush as she looks toward the kitchen. “Look, I shouldn’t have said that. It doesn’t matter. I—”
“The hell it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t, Coy. I’m only here because Lauren couldn’t get anyone else for Bree, and Bree was so excited. So, I’m a sucker, all right? But I’m here for her, not to hash out things that don’t matter between us.”
I furrow my brows and try to work out what she’s saying and what she’s not saying. I feel like both are equally important.
“Bells, if something is bothering you, I wanna talk about it.”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Please don’t placate me.”
“I’m not.”
She covers her face with her hands and holds them there.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“I’m manifesting.”
“What are you manifesting?”
“Peace, love, and goodwill to men.”
I snort. “So, you’re trying to manifest yourself into a Hallmark card?”
She drops her hands and fights a smile.
I want to reach out and touch the side of her face. My fingers burn to run through her hair, and it’s almost impossible not to reach out and pull her to me.
She’s too beautiful, too sexy—too real and raw with her makeup-free face and the cellulite that I know dimples her ass. What you see with Bellamy Davenport is what you get, and there’s something remarkably, insanely attractive about that.
“If you get sick of doing this, just give me the heads-up, and I’ll get Bree out of here,” she tells me. “I know this is going to get old really fast.”
I shrug. “Maybe not.”
She quirks a brow like she doesn’t believe me. “I can handle Bree, but you’ll have to tell Lauren. She’s all about this.”
“I think Lauren was all about me.”
She scoffs. “I bet you do.”
“What? Are you saying she wasn’t?”
“I’m saying that you think every woman is about you.”
I can’t help myself. I take a step closer and grin. “What about you? Are you about me?”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t bat an eyelash. “No.”
For a split second, my confidence is dinged. Maybe she’s not. But then I see it—the chink in her armor. The acknowledgment of the energy between us. The way her eyes light up as she’s undoubtedly thinking about that night on the boat again too.
Because I for damn sure am.
“Why do you pretend you aren’t attracted to me?” I ask her.
“Why do you pretend I am?”
I take another step toward her. “Why do you pretend you don’t like me?”
“Because I don’t,” she says with a slight wobble to her tone.
I stop just in front of her.
She looks up at me, refusing to bend to my will, and grins. I lick my lips as I tell myself not to kiss her.
“You’re right, Coy. I need to stop lying to both of us.”
I nod, closing the slightest gap between us. Our bodies nearly touch and would if our breathing wasn’t so shallow.
My cock goes hard; my blood turns red hot as I watch desire pool in her eyes.
I straddle her feet with mine and peer down at her.
“Part of my manifestation journey is being clear about what I want,” she almost purrs. “I used to think that if I just told myself that I didn’t want certain things, or people, that the desire would go away. But that’s not how it works.”
“Nope.”
She smiles mischievously. Her lips part, forming a soft o before she breathes in a hasty breath that I think is just to rile me up.
It works.
“Bells …” I say, unable to see straight. I want her so bad I can taste her.
I tell myself that it’s because it’s been a while since I had sex. I wasn’t fucking Willa and had to play that part publicly. That dashes your availability.
But I’m available now …
“Here’s the thing, though,” she says. “Just saying you don’t want something doesn’t mean you don’t. What you have to do is clarify what it is you want.”
“Your point?”
“I can’t just say I don’t want you,” she says, laying a fingertip on my sternum and ignoring my request to expedite the process. “The desire is still there.”
“Bellamy,” I growl.
I’m trying to have patience and let her finish, but I don’t give a shit how she got here. I just want her to admit she wants me, and then I want to figure out how to get rid of this kid.
She sighs. “But when I’m clear about what I want …” Her lips twist into an amused grin. “It diminishes the desire. It’s freedom.”
I pull away from her to get a better view. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her eyes fill with fire again. “You might be right when you point out that I’m attracted to you. But when I’m clear about the kind of guy I want to give my time to—it isn’t you.”