Undenied (Unspoken 3)

of thick lashes, and her tongue came out to wet her lips. She was going to kiss him again.

Not if you kiss her first.

And why not? So far she’d made all the moves. He wanted to taste her, wanted to remember how good she felt in his arms. And damn it, he wanted some kind of reaction from the lower half of his body.

He eased his head forward, meeting her halfway. She framed his face in her hands and pulled him closer. He slid his fingers up her shoulders, over the curve of her neck until they rested just below her ears. His lips met hers. Cautiously at first.

A soft mingling of flesh. Kiss and retreat. Kiss again. Longer this time. His tongue darted out. He wanted her taste, wanted to remember, wanted to replace the undesirable memories with better ones.

This time, the urgency of youth was absent. Instead, there was a slow, sensual exploration, a gentle seduction. This is what she should have had the first time. Not his clumsy attempts.

That thought sent a jolt of reality over him. With a ragged sigh, he pulled away and leaned back against the headrest of his seat.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

It would seem his humiliation knew no bounds. He gestured downward with a casual flip of his hand. “Nothing. That’s what’s wrong. My mind says yes. Unfortunately, my mind and my body are on two different wavelengths.”

“I guess this is where I get the it’s not you, it’s me speech,” she said.

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was either that or die a slow death from embarrassment. “I think it’s definitely safe to say it’s not you, Payton. Apparently I have more issues than Time magazine. Who knew I was so fucked in the head over something that happened twelve years ago.”

She rotated her wrist up to check her watch. “Not that I don’t enjoy dampening a man’s ardor, but I really need to be getting back. I have the rehearsal supper this evening, and I have to drive back to Beaumont to the hotel to get ready.”

He saw through her flippant front. He knew he’d hurt her. Again. Not physically this time. His chest felt heavy with regret.

“Payton?”

She looked up.

“You don’t know how much I wish…how much I wish that things were different.”

She grinned, though her chin trembled just a bit as she spoke. “So what you’re saying is that you wish like hell your cock would cooperate so you could prove to me what a stud you’ve turned out to be.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it like that exactly,” he muttered.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Maybe we’re better off just being friends and calling it good.”

As he started the engine and drove back down the dirt road, her last words echoed in his ears. Friends. Hell, he was friends with Gracie. He didn’t want to be friends with Payton. It didn’t feel like enough all of a sudden. He felt an odd sort of ache, deeper than his skin, deep in his chest. Like someone had dropped a bowling ball down his throat. And he was hard-pressed to put his finger on why.

Two days ago, he was just fine. Two days ago, he didn’t have a care in the world beyond his job and his friends. But two days ago, Payton hadn’t walked back into his life.

Chapter Four

She’d spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening thinking about him. She’d cruised through rehearsal and the dinner afterward on autopilot, smiling when appropriate, performing most of the tasks with half a brain.

Now that the shindig was winding down, Payton mulled her course of action over a glass of wine as she watched Brenda smile up at her husband-to-be as they talked with both sets of parents.

True, probably the smartest idea would be to leave this thing between her and Wes alone, go back home to Houston after the wedding and forget she’d ever seen him again. But that wasn’t what she wanted to do, and she had this little problem called an impulsive nature. She pretty much tended to do what she wanted, regardless of the fact that she might regret it afterward.

And she wanted Wes Hoffman pretty badly. But why did she want him? That was a harder question to answer. Was he a challenge? Maybe, but that still didn’t explain the deep-down flutter that started the minute she saw him in the bar.

She drummed her fingers along the side of the crystal goblet and took another sip as she contemplated her options. It wasn’t as simple as showing up at his house again and asking him if he was interested in a one-night stand. While he might very well be interested (he was a guy after all), his lack of physical response to her was a rather huge stumbling block.

Yeah, that ruffled her pride, even though she knew he found her attractive.

What she needed to do was get around his little psychological roadblock. A teeny-tiny smile attacked her face as an idea formed.

Ambush.

Maybe he expected her to be all sweet and innocent, goodness and light. He did still see her as a sixteen-year-old virgin. She nearly snorted wine out her nose at that idea.

Yeah, what she needed was a plan of attack. A way to knock him off his feet and get him to see her, not some little girl he felt guilty for hurting.

Or…

Not see her at all.

She looked at her watch and calculated the time she’d need to drive back to her hotel and get ready. An hour, tops. She set her wineglass in the window behind her then dug out her cell phone from her purse. Hopefully his number was listed.

Wes walked through the lobby of Payton’s hotel and down the hall toward the room number she’d given him. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t be here. One, he had to work in the morning, two, he needed to just let sleeping dogs lie and three, what the hell could she want?

He’d gotten a phone call from her—surprising enough to hear her husky voice over the line, but then she’d asked him to come to her hotel. Ten o’clock. She’d been very specific.

He should have declined, just said no. But here he was, standing outside her room like a moron on his first date. Despite his initial desire for her to leave and for him to never see her again, he knew that was his embarrassment and discomfort talking. The truth was, she intrigued him. He was curious, and he knew she was equally intrigued with him.

He knocked sharply and waited. Within a few seconds the door opened, and his eyes widened. Payton was half-hidden by the door, but what he could see was downright jaw-dropping.

One long, slender leg peeked seductively around the door. Dainty lace, hip-hugging panties—could you call something that only covered an inch of flesh actual panties?—twined over her curvy hip.

His gaze followed the bare flesh from the waistband of the panties upward until it met with a matching bra. Pink. Sexy and feminine.

She smiled at him, white, perfectly straight teeth flashing as she opened the door wider. “Come in, please.”

He started forward on shaky legs, swallowing convulsively when she turned to walk in front of him. The panties rode high, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the swell of her ass. Her hips rocked in a gentle motion and he had to catch himself as his head began mimicking those motions.

She stopped at a chair that was situated at the foot of the bed. “Sit,” she said as she gestured downward.

Dumbly he eased into the chair and looked up, his gaze riveted to her. “Payton, what’s this about?”

She leaned down and put a finger over his lips. “Shhh.” Her lips hovered provocatively over the finger pressed against his mouth. “This is my show.” She reached over and picked up a long black piece of satin from the bed. It trailed across his legs as she circled behind him.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and looped the sash around the front of his neck. Then she raised it until it brushed across his face. With gentle fingers, she positioned it over his eyes.

As the room went dark, he raised his hand in automatic protest, but again she whispered in his ear. “Shhh. Trust me. You’ll like this.”