“Think I’m okay to impose my existence on you now?” Soren shouldered up beside me, holding out a fresh glass of champagne and taking my empty one.
I shot him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. For dragging you here and then ditching you.”
“It’s all good. I’m an expert at mingling.”
Something on his cheek caught my attention. Lipstick.
“Yeah, mingling.” My eyes narrowed as I scanned the room, searching for the lips that matched the shade on his cheek.
“You okay?”
Why was I so upset? Why was my blood boiling? Why was I still staring at the mark on his cheek?
“I want to leave,” I announced before chugging the fresh glass of champagne as I whisked out of the room.
“I’m on board with that decision. This bow tie feels like a noose.” Soren pulled at his collar and bow tie, falling into step beside me.
We were almost out of the ballroom when someone stepped in our path. Well, she stepped into his path.
Matching lip girl.
Jealousy felt like a living thing inside me right then. A putrid, crippling stew of tar-like substance. She was obviously a model, but not one I recognized. I found myself targeting in on her every flaw as she rested her hand on his chest, laughing about something he’d just said.
I was bigger than this. Better than reducing myself into a spiteful, bitter person who pinpointed the flaws in others.
“I’ll meet you outside.” I shoved by them, dropping my empty glass on one of the serving trays at the doorway. “Take your time.”
I was still wincing as I whisked down the hall toward the doorway. It was one thing to think the thoughts of a raging bitch and another to vocalize them. By the time I’d made it through the front door, I heard his steps jogging behind me. He even called my name a few times, but I kept moving. I couldn’t let him see the emotion on my face, the hurt in my eyes. I had to recompose myself before I let him see me.
“Hayden!” His footsteps pounded across the concrete walkway, catching up to me.
I focused on hailing one of the cabs waiting in a line in the driveway.
He paused beside me, his breath coming quickly from his chase. “What was that about?”
Sniffing, I crossed my arms, still gazing down the driveway. “What was what about?”
“Back there? That crazy shrew moment?”
Shrugging, I played it off. “What? I wanted to let you know I’d be waiting out here.” When I glanced over, I noticed a folded napkin in his hands, and I could just make out some numbers on it. I swore I felt like there was a volcano about to blow inside me. “Since your new friend clearly couldn’t let you go so soon.”
“My new friend?” He pulled the cab door open when it stopped in front of us. “Are you talking about Penelope?”
Penelope. Who named their kid Penelope? Who lived their life being called that every day instead of getting a name change?
Oh, god. My inner bitch was really having a field day.
If you don’t have anything nice to say, just don’t say anything at all. I could hear my mom’s words echo in my mind. She’d raised me up better than this. Better than some insecure-acting girl who thought mean things about total strangers.
“Do you know her or something?” he asked.
I slid across the backseat of the cab, burrowing against the far door. “No. But it looked like you were getting pretty comfortable with her.”
As Soren entered the cab, he appraised me with a look that suggested I was an injured wild animal. “Oh-kay. There’s something I’m missing here. And I’m a guy, so I’m going to need you to spell it out for me. Slowly. In small words.”
I knew better than to open my mouth without counting to ten first. At least I was learning how to tame my inner “shrew.”
“You’re not missing anything,” I said slowly. “I was just making an observation. Looked like you two were good friends.”
The skin between Soren’s eyes creased as he finished giving the address to the driver. “Let’s see. I know her name, that she loves using the word like every other breath, that she’s a born-again vegan—whatever that is—and thinks people who wear fur should be burned at the stake. Oh, and she once dated some guy whose name I can’t remember anymore, but she said it like it was one of those names I should know.”
I made a sound with my mouth. One of those really mature ones a teenager gave their parents when they were being lectured. “You know something else about her too.” My eyes dropped to the napkin still clutched in his hand.
“Oh, yeah. Her number.” He unfolded it and held it out for me.
My arms stayed folded around myself. She’d planted her lips on the napkin too.
“She said we should get together some time and ‘hang out.’” He did the air quote thing, his brows moving in time with his fingers.
She’d just met the guy and was already throwing around her number and suggestions for “hanging out.” What kind of guy did she think Soren was? He wasn’t that type . . . was he? My stomach churned, the champagne bubbling inside not helping the situation. I could feel the two glasses I’d had on an empty stomach bleeding into my system, fogging my head and relaxing my body. “You know what that means, right? Hanging out?”
“She wants to use my body for vulgar purposes?” When my mouth dropped open, he chuckled. “Hayden, relax. I’m a big boy. I know the game. It wasn’t like I was born in Hastings, Nebraska, or anything.”
“You don’t have to make fun of me. I’m just trying to look after you. That kind of girl is only looking for one thing from a guy like you.”
“Gee, okay, Dad. Thanks for the words of wisdom.” Soren lifted his voice an octave, batting his eyes at me. “Why don’t you just have a chastity belt welded to my special lady parts so no person of ill repute can deflower me?”
I couldn’t believe he was behaving so childishly. He looked after me—why couldn’t I do the same without being treated like I was way off base?
“Can we just not speak to each other for the rest of the ride? I’m getting a headache.” My fingers rubbed my temples, the mix of alcohol, jealousy, and tight corseting making me feel like my head was being attacked by a herd of elephants.
“Wait. What is this?” Soren’s voice changed, growing serious. He leaned closer, studying my face. “Why do you care who I make ‘friends’ with or who wants to stuff their phone numbers into my hands?” He paused, still studying me.
I sealed my eyes closed and angled myself toward the door. I didn’t like where he was going with this line of questioning. “Silence, please. Migraine en route.”
“You have my word that I will seal my lips for the rest of the night as soon as you answer my question.”
I heard him shift closer. His cologne hit me again, this time combined with the light hint of champagne on his breath and the faint scent of sweat clinging to him. I found myself experiencing that magnetic pull feeling again.
He wasn’t going to let this go. Soren was as obstinate as I was.
“I don’t care who you make friends with or who passes you their phone number with their lips stamped all over it.”
He leaned forward. I twisted farther toward the door. “You’re acting like you care.”
“You’re pretending that I care. But I don’t.”
I heard him shift back into his side of the cab. “Wow. Ouch. Okay, good to know. Thanks for clearing that up.” He sniffed, scooting a little farther away. “I’ll keep my mouth shut now.”
An amoeba? Was there anything lower on the life scale than that? If there was, that’s what I was. That’s what I felt like.
My whole life, I’d been the mature, responsible one, and now that I was on my own in the big city and falling for some great guy, I’d morphed into a child. Great timing.
He kept his word the rest of the ride back to the apartment. Not a word. The tension became so thick inside the cab, the driver actually rolled down his window a crack.
When the driver pulled up in front of the apartment, Soren already had the money ready before I’d checked the fare. After crawling out, he waited beside the door. He didn’t give me his hand to take as he had on the ride to the party, but he waited for me to climb out, and he closed the door behind me once he’d pulled out the hem of my dress.
He followed me as I unlocked the front door. After we made it through the door, he stayed one step behind me on our climb to the sixth floor. The silence stretched on—nothing but the sound of his shoes echoing on each step, the sound of my own barely making a noise.
“Would you hold onto the handrail? Please? That’s what it’s there for.”
I looked back and saw his jaw move as he eyed the handrail beside me, still lingering a step behind. His arms were kind of open, like he was ready to . . . catch me if I fell.
Even when I’d pissed him off, he couldn’t lay off the big brother routine. Paying for the cab, opening doors, making sure I didn’t fall down the stairs.
I didn’t take the handrail. Instead, I moved up the stairs faster, taking a couple of them at a time. It wasn’t him I was upset with—it was me. Having my roommate show such concern for me should have made me grateful. Instead, I felt let down. Because I didn’t want my roommate treating me like a family member—I wanted him to be like some hero in one of those classic stories I’d read in high school. I wanted him to pursue me. To crave me. To lose sleep over me. To be mad with sickness if he couldn’t be near me.
I wanted Soren to want me. The way every woman in the world desired to be wanted.
“Hayden, be careful.” His footsteps hurried behind me. “Slow down. I don’t need you tripping on that dress and spilling down the stairs.”
“I’m fine.” My feet moved faster, my heel strikes filling the stairwell.
“No, you’re pissed. And pissed people trip and fall down stairs.” He caught up to me, his hand circling around my arm in an attempt to slow me.
I shook off his hand. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why are you acting like such a child?” He kept moving up the stairs with me, one arm braced behind me just in case.
“A child,” I stated, twisting around to face him once I’d reached the top of the stairs. I held my arms out at my sides to show him I’d made it up six flights in four-inch heels and a floor-length gown all on my own. “Because that’s what I am to you, right? A helpless kid who needs someone to look after her?”
Soren clearly hadn’t been expecting me to stop. He bumped into me when he reached the top. “A child? What? No.”
He steadied me with his hands after knocking into me, but again, I shrugged them away. Having him touch me now was painful since I’d accepted what I’d been trying to deny for weeks. I liked Soren. I really liked him.
“Where is all of this coming from? My head feels like it’s about to break off from all of the whiplash I’ve sustained tonight.”
“Whatever, Soren.” I moved toward our apartment, searching for the key buried in my clutch. “You’re not the only person with whiplash.” I thought of all the looks, the comments, the moments where I’d thought, when I’d hoped . . .
My gaze dropped to something resting on the floor outside of our door. A plate of cookies. Homemade peanut butter ones. His favorite. Stuck to the plastic wrap was a yellow sticky, signed Mrs. Lopez. There was even an XOXO.
At least this note didn’t have a desperate lipstick kiss on it.
Why did all of the women of New York have to want the first man I’d ever wanted? The same one I was forced to share a small, confined space with?
The stars were screwing with me. Big time. Although with the way I was acting lately, I totally deserved it.
Soren crouched to snag the plate of cookies, already peeling back the plastic wrap and going in for one.
“Mrs. Lopez left some of her goodies for you,” I said, stating the obvious. “And why does she go by Mrs.? Is she married?”
Soren held the plate up toward me, one cookie already shoved in his mouth. “Not anymore. And what do you have against Mrs. Lopez?”
“Nothing. It’s you who’s had something against Mrs. Lopez.” As soon as I had the door open, I powered inside. “Your body,” I added under my breath, the very essence of mature.
“Great, and now Mrs. Lopez?” The door slammed shut behind him, his footsteps rumbling after me. “First the chick back at the party, and now her? You’re acting kind of—” His footsteps came to a halt at the same time his voice did.
I ducked behind my partition and yanked off my jacket before he could get in my face to make me confirm or deny what he’d just silently accused me of. “No, I’m not.”
“Whoa. Yes. You are.” Two footsteps rang toward me. “You’re jealous.”
There it was. He’d said it. It was a nasty word. A highly flammable one.
A true one.
“I am very unjealous,” I announced, capping my response with an insulted huff.
He was quiet after that. Quiet was bad. Especially where Soren was concerned. It meant he was thinking. Contemplating.
After tossing my jacket onto my new mattress, I yanked the bow free behind my back and started working to loosen the corseting. Even with all of my nervous energy, I made barely any progress. Looked like I was going to be sleeping in the gown tonight.
“Why are you jealous?”
His words made me freeze. Not because of the question, but because of the way he’d asked it. I didn’t know a person could sound that vulnerable. When I leaned my head around the partition just enough to see him, I found his whole exterior matching. Vulnerable. Exposed. Bared.
I didn’t understand why he looked the same way I felt. How he looked even more so.
“Why, Hayden?” His forehead lined as his throat moved. “Why are you jealous?”
I had to slide behind the partition again. It was hard to hear his voice—it was hell to see him at the same time.
“I can’t answer that, because I’m not. Jealous,” I added, just to make it clear. Clear to him I was telling the truth, clear to me I was lying.
Getting back to yanking on the ribbons of the dress, I let out a frustrated yelp when I wound up tightening a link instead of loosening it.
“Need some help?”
No.
“Yes.”
My answer surprised me. For once, I felt like my words matched how I really felt where Soren was concerned.
The sound of his heel strikes moving toward me gave me goose bumps. When he came around the partition, I felt my throat dry to cotton. He’d yanked his bow tie loose and popped the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt undone. I so rarely saw him without his ball cap, I found myself staring at his hair, mussed from the way he’d styled it earlier. Probably from running his fingers through it in frustration from dealing with me the last hour.
I wanted to run my fingers through it. To feel it slide across my skin, curl over my knuckles—I wanted to hear the sound that would spill from his lips if I gave it a solid pull.
My heart was beating so fast, I felt like it was about to split out of my chest.
“Turn around.” His voice was distant, tired.
Turning in place, I felt his hands drop into place before I finished moving. They went straight to work, moving deftly, precisely. More raised skin. More prickles spilling down the column of my spine.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. The only sound was that of the ribbons being manipulated by his hands. Each loosening should have made it easier to breathe, but instead, it made it harder. The more freedom my lungs had, the more strained they felt.
I guessed I knew why. Before, Soren had been helping me get dressed.
Now, Soren Decker was helping me undress.
That realization drew an uneven exhale from with the next loosening tug of his hands.
“Almost done.”
I nodded, concentrating on my breath.
He’d just made it to the last few crosses at the top when I lowered my hands from where they’d been tucked across my chest, holding up the front of the gown. They trembled as I dropped them to my sides. A test. It sounded like a good idea.
If he let the dress fall to the floor, I’d know.
If he caught it before it did, I’d know.
Either way, I’d have my answer.
A guy who was into a girl would definitely let the dress fall, right?
A guy who viewed the girl as a sister would definitely not let the dress fall. Right?
I didn’t know. My reasoning had been misfiring for weeks now.
When I felt Soren give the top of the corseting a hard pull, I sucked in a breath and held it. Here came the answer to my harebrained experiment.
The dress started to slide down and, no lie, his hands cinched around the sides of it so quickly, he had to have broken the sound barrier.
The breath drained from my lungs all at once.
“I’ve got you,” he said, slipping the dress back into place, waiting for me to take it so he could give me some privacy.
“Yeah. You do.”
My hands lifted to hold the dress, then he stepped out of my room. Area. Space. Whatever this was now.
Letting the dress fall to the floor, I grabbed the first article of clothing that was pajama-like. An oversized shirt of some ‘70s’ band I’d picked up at a yard sale back in Nebraska. After tugging it on, I pulled the bobby pins out of my hair and let it all fall into a messy heap down my back. I didn’t comb my fingers through it to try to tame it or lay it down. Then I kicked off my heels as fast as I could before marching toward the kitchen. Food sounded like a good idea. The sugary, fatty, salty variety.
The lights were still off, and I didn’t bother to turn any on. There was enough city light streaming through the windows on any given night to light up the whole apartment enough to move around without running into a wall.
“Want a cookie?” Soren appeared in the doorway as I was rifling through the fridge. Yogurt, berries, and almond milk. Yeah, that wasn’t going to cut it.
“No. Thanks,” I added, shoving my inner bitch into a cage. Hopefully she’d stay there for a while.
“They’re good.” He waved the plate in front of me.
“No, thank you.” I scooted the almond milk aside, just in case a jug of chocolate milk had decided to magically appear in the back of the fridge.
“Come on. Have a cookie. It will make you feel better.” He pulled one out and held it in front of my face.
The volcano inside that had stayed dormant for nineteen years of my life started to erupt. Slamming the fridge closed, I spun on him. Whatever he saw on my face had him backing up a couple of steps.
“I don’t want a cookie from you, Soren.”
“Okay. Noted.” He stuffed the cookie in his mouth and set the plate on the counter. “Forget I mentioned anything about cookies.”
“How can I? You asked me half a million times!”
He shifted, blinking at me. “Okay. I give up.” He freed the buttons on his sleeves then slid his hands in his pockets. “What did I do?”
What had he done? Just made me fall for him. That was all.
That was enough.
“Nothing,” I answered.
“What did I do?” As I headed back for my room, he followed me, right on my heels. “And if you give me one more ‘nothing,’ I’m going to lose it.”
When I kept moving, his hands caught my shoulders, stilling me at the same time he twisted me around. His eyes aligned on mine, his face moving closer. I’d never seen his eyes like this before. Inches away from mine, emotions played in them that made me dizzy.
“What? Did? I? Do?”
My mind lost its foothold. “I don’t want cookies from you.”
Imaginary head smack. Commence now.
Soren looked as confused as he was amused. “Okay, okay. You don’t want cookies from me.” He moved closer; I moved away. He stalked closer still. I slammed into the wall behind me. One side of his mouth twitched when he appraised my current situation. One arm braced beside my head. The other fixing to the wall on my other side. “Then what do you want?”
My lungs faltered.
My heart followed.
My mind last.
“You.” The word fell from my mouth. “I want you.”
And cue the fuckity-fuck-fuck chorus.
All signs of amusement blanched from his face. A deep crease carved between his eyes as his throat moved. “You want what?”
Don’t you dare say it again, Hayden. Dignity. Hold onto whatever you have left.
“Forget it.” When I tried ducking beneath his arm, he slid it down to keep me detained. “It’s late. I’m tired. I’m two glasses of champagne into the night.” When I ducked lower, he did the same thing.
“Forget it?” His head shook once. “No way.”
“Soren,” I exhaled when I tried to escape beneath his other arm, only to find him caging me in on that side as well.
“Stop.” One of his hands formed around my shoulder, positioning me so I was facing him straight on again. His head moved closer, aligning with mine. “Explain.”
His mouth. I was staring at it. Wondering what it would feel like moving with mine, how his lips would feel, how his tongue would explore. My face rushed with heat, a crimson sign giving away my thoughts. I moved to duck beneath his arm again. “I don’t know what I meant by that. I meant nothing by that.”
Soren’s hand caught my shoulder again. “Turn,” he instructed, waiting. “Look me in the eye.” He waited again. The instant my eyes met his, he continued, “Explain.”
Tired of fighting it.
Tired of hiding it.
Tired of pretending it would go away.
“I want . . .” My stomach was in knots. “You.”
He didn’t say anything. He stood there, bolstered in front of me, studying my eyes. “You want me? In the way I’m thinking you mean?”
My fingers worked at the hem of my sleep shirt, nervous energy pouring out of me. “Probably, yeah.”
“For how long now?” he asked, his expression giving nothing away. He could have been disgusted. Embarrassed. He could have felt the same way about me. His face was that veiled.
“Too long,” I answered. A month? A day?
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” His light eyes glowed with curiosity.
My arms lifted before falling at my sides. “Because it’s embarrassing. I didn’t want to tell you tonight. I didn’t want to tell you ever. I didn’t want you to know because . . .”
Soren leaned closer. “Because why?”
I’d already confessed the worst. The rest was nothing. “Because of the way you treat me.”
His forehead creased. “What way do I treat you?”
My finger motioned between us, expecting him to realize it. It was obvious to me. “Like I’m your little sister or something.”
“My little sister?” The look on my face managed to wipe whatever amusement had been about to surface. He took a breath. “What’s wrong with a guy treating a girl like a sister?” His shoulders moved beneath the tux jacket. “Respect comes with that, protection, taking care of her. Having her back, chasing off the cheese-dicks of the world. What’s wrong with that?”
After I got past the cheese-dick reference, I took a minute to consider that. Respect. Concern. Loyalty. My mind felt muddy from all of the conflict raging inside of me. One moment believing one thing—the next invalidating that belief.
“Nothing’s wrong with that,” I answered quietly.
“You just don’t want me looking at you and only thinking little sister—is that what you’re saying?” My eyes answered him. “How do you want me to look at you then?”
My mind stalled. The answer to that should have been easy to give since I’d been consumed by the topic for weeks. “Like I’m . . .”
Soren’s body drifted closer. “Like you’re someone I have feelings for?”
My head bobbed. “But I know you probably don’t, and I know I’m an idiot for telling you all of this because we live together and now it’s going to be all awkward, and . . .” I was sweating, that was how nervous I was. “What am I even saying right now? God. Just shut up already, Hayden.” When I realized Soren was still standing there, arms braced around me, eyes unyielding, I slouched into the wall. “What?”
“Just waiting to see if you’re serious.”
“Serious about what?”
His mouth twitched. “Shutting up.”
“Soren!” I slugged his arm. I’d just bared my soul—this wasn’t the time for his wit to run free.
“I just want to know.”
“Why?”
“So I can finally reply to everything you just said.”
Sealing my lips, I shrugged.
He had to fight another grin, but as he did, his feet slid closer, one settling between mine, the other outside my foot. His arms bent as his body pressed into mine. His chest rose and fell against mine with each breath, sending a cataclysm of sensations loose inside my body.
“What are you doing?” My voice quaked as his hands moved from the wall to the sides of my neck.
Soren’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Answering your question,” he breathed as his index fingers skimmed my neck, causing a tangle of goose bumps to charge down my spine.
“Soren—”
“Still answering your question,” he whispered right before his mouth touched mine.
Every nerve in my body fired at once. A moment after, I lost control of them all.
My hands found themselves on his chest, sweeping beneath the lapels of his jacket. My lips found themselves parting as he kissed me, taking the lead, guiding me as our mouths came together and fell away like waves breaking on the beach.
I’d kissed a few boys back home. I’d made out with a couple of them too, but that had felt different than this did. Maybe it was because my feelings for Soren were stronger, or maybe it was because Soren didn’t kiss like a boy—sloppy and unsure, hands a groping, untamed mess.
No, Soren definitely didn’t kiss like a boy. My god, I wasn’t sure what to compare his knowledge of kissing to.
Soren kissed like a . . .
Deity. The damn deity of lust.
His hands stayed framed around my neck. His thumbs swept along my pulse points when he kissed me harder, and fell away when his intensity waned, allowing us each a moment to recover.
Five minutes went by. Maybe more. His mouth never once left mine, his hands staying secured to my neck. This was the best kiss of my life. I knew that. No kiss in the future would ever compare to the one happening right now in this small apartment in this giant city.
This was more than what I’d ever hoped to get in return from Soren—but still, I wanted more.
So much more.
My hands circled behind his neck as I leapt just enough to encircle his waist with my legs. The surprise of it drew a sound from deep in his chest, his mouth working against mine at the new pace I’d set.
Combustion. I was on my way, in the process of, or experiencing it. I’d never felt this way before to know for sure.
My tongue collided with his as his hands loosened from my neck to loop behind my backside. He pushed me harder into the wall, this time more with his hips than his chest. I could feel him straining through his slacks, fitting his warmth against mine.
Something uneven and low vibrated in my throat when I pitched my hips against him. The same type of sound, a few octaves lower, emanated from him.
He pressed me harder into the wall, pinning my hips to it, making it impossible for me to move. His tongue untangled from mine, his mouth slowed, and he pulled back just far enough, a ribbon of rational thought could form again.
“What?” I panted against his lips.
He was breathing hard, like he’d just finished sprinting the bases. His eyes were feral, the pupils almost swallowing his irises. “Did I answer your question?”
My breaths were just as fragmented, so I nodded my answer.
One side of his mouth pulled. “Good.”
His mouth. It wasn’t just nice to look at; it was capable of performing nice—really nice—things. Which made me want to get back to doing those nice things.
Soren pulled back when I moved back in.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. For one insecure moment, I wondered if I was a total letdown in the kissing department. Was I a bad kisser? The slobbering, messy kind?
“I just think that we should maybe slow down.” Soren’s eyes dropped to where my hands were still draped on his chest. I’d managed to get three of his shirt buttons undone, my fingers frozen on the fourth. I didn’t even remember reaching for the first.
“Slow down?” I repeated. That didn’t mean I was a bad kisser.
“Slow down.” His eyes moved lower, to where our hips were joined. My shirt had ridden up, my white underwear was showing, and something of his showed behind his zipper.
This didn’t seem like the time to slow down. My body was racing. I was ready; he was clearly ready.
“Why?” I asked, letting go of his shirt, which my fingers looked about to rip off.
His face pulled up like he was trying to answer that question himself. “I just think that we might be moving a little fast. Maybe,” he added, looking as unsure as he did sure. “Like you said, you’ve had champagne. You could totally be turned on by the sight of me in a tux because, well, no explanation needed right?” He leaned away so he could motion down at his tux.
Damn. He’d looked good all polished and pristine. But now, bow tie undone, shirt halfway open, hair mussed, his erection pushing against his zipper . . . this was what a girl’s dreams were made of.
“I only had two glasses of champagne.”
“You never drink.”
“Over the course of four hours.”
“You weigh nothing.”
I exhaled, accepting he’d have a rebuttal to every point I tried to make. “I felt something for you before I saw you in your tux.”
His brow carved into his forehead. “Yeah, but the tux didn’t hurt the feelings, right?”
He took my lack of answer as one.
“Plus, the whole jealousy thing could be swaying your . . .”
“Feelings?” I suggested.
His eyes dropped to my sleep shirt, where my nipples were popping through the thin material. His eyes swept lower, where my hips were still fighting to form against his. Letting go of his hold around my backside, he set me back down on the floor.
“Libido,” he stated, taking a few steps back, his hand lifting when I moved to close that distance.
“You think because some other chick was hitting on you, that’s the reason I want to . . .”
“Have sex with me?”
My arms crossed, my legs trembling with what felt like withdrawal-like symptoms. “That isn’t the reason.”
“Good. I will be happy to let you prove that to me at a later time. When alcohol, a tux, and another ‘chick’ aren’t part of the same evening.” When Soren’s eyes ran down me again, he rolled his neck and took a few more large steps back.
At least I wasn’t the only one fighting temptation.
“Did you seriously just suggest slowing down?” More of my mind was coming back with the farther away he got.
He looked like he was replaying it in his head. “Yeah, I think I really did.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a moron hell-bent on making sure I suffer and strangle any measure of happiness out of my life.”
Leaning into the wall, I tried to catch my breath. “That sounds about right.”
His face creased. “Then why does it feel so wrong?”
“Doing the right thing’s hard?” I guessed.
Soren’s eyes dropped to his belt region. “It’s hard, all right. So damn hard, I’m going to have to take a cold shower if I want to get any sleep tonight.”
My eyes roamed the same region, but I forced myself to stay where I was. “We both know what you do in the shower.”
Soren fought a smile as he kicked out of his shoes. “Tonight, in the shower. Tomorrow night”—his eyes met mine—“we’ll revisit this . . . topic.” His hand motioned between us.
“You’re not saying that because you’re not that into me and don’t want to hurt my feelings?” I worked at my lip as he slid out of the tux jacket and settled it over the back of a chair. Nice of him to do the Soren Strip Show ten feet in front of me.
“No,” he snorted, making a face like I was insane. “I’m into you. So way into you, I’m still kind of in shock you just admitted you were into me. So way into you, I’m fighting every instinct and muscle fiber begging me to push you back up against that wall and finish what we started.”
My knees quivered. More from the way he was appraising me, his jaw working, than the words he was speaking.
“I’m into you, Hayden. I’m not saying slow down for my benefit; I’m saying it for yours.”
“For mine?”
“If I was only looking out for mine, I’d have you in my bed and screaming my name right now.” He pulled the bow tie from his collar, giving me a look that dared me to challenge him.
“Screaming your name, huh? Confident in your abilities.”
“I could try to convince you with my words. Or I could just actually convince you tomorrow night.” He smirked as he unbuttoned what was left of his shirt. “You got a preview of what my tongue can do, right? Believe me, screaming my name’s just the start of what I have planned.”
That man. Good god. I swear, if I barely touched myself through my underwear right now, I’d come from the way he was appraising me like he wanted to possess me. “Tomorrow night?”
“Sleep on it, think about it. You still feel the same way tomorrow night—minus the alcohol, tux, and other chicks—yeah.” He nodded, slipping out of his shirt one arm at a time. “Tomorrow night.”
“Twenty-four hours? That’s the difference between taking it slow and rushing into things?”
“Eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds. Each of those feeling like a damn lifetime to a man waiting to be with the girl he’s into.” Soren worked at his belt as he started for the bathroom, winking at me when he caught me staring at his bare upper half. “I’d wait tens of thousands of lifetimes for you. That’s the difference right there.”
I turned to watch him, my heart trilling. “It’s still only twenty-four hours. One day.”
“I’m trying to be romantic.”
“I’m trying to get laid.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman. A good guy here.”
“I’m trying to be a bad girl. A very bad one.”
His hands gripped the frame of the doorway before he banged his head against it. “I’m going to take that cold shower now.”
“Have fun with your ‘self-love.’ I prefer to do mine in my bed.” Shoving off the wall, I wandered toward my room. “Come to think of it . . .” When I glanced over my shoulder, I found him watching me, mouth hanging open, his body angling like he wanted to follow. “Good night, Soren.”
A few more thumps sounded. “Sweet dreams, Hayden.”