Take Me

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What was he going to do? He could handle being used for sex—woman used bedding him as some sort of ego trip on a regular basis—but this was Amanda. Amanda. Even though she’d said that she was good with sex for the sake of sex, he didn’t really believe it because for once, he wasn’t okay with it. He couldn’t push her away and forget she existed, because she was already too close. She’d been too close even before her soft lips had brushed his throat and every bit of common sense between them had spontaneously combusted.

After several laps, he stopped at the shallow end of the pool and stared blankly at the blue water. Maybe they could pretend last night had never happened and go back to just being friends. Maybe he could pretend that all they’d shared was physical intimacy.

No, he knew better. It hadn’t been just-sex. Not for him. For him, his time with her had been more. He wasn’t afraid of her getting hurt by a night of unrestrained passion. He was concerned for himself.

He’d just have to deal with these feelings in private. He had to be careful not to hurt her. He didn’t like to hurt the women he cared about, and yeah, he cared about her. He wouldn’t deny it, not to himself. He’d cared for a while now. Even before he’d started to lust after her, he’d known she was special. He liked her as a person first and a woman second. And that was the entire problem.

He didn’t know if she felt anything for him beyond friendship and temporary sexual infatuation, but if she fell for him, he’d eventually end up doing something that hurt her. Something he’d regret. Because when it came to women, he could play them, but he had no idea how to forge a serious and lasting relationship. He was too easily distracted. That’s why he’d sworn off relationships. And it had been a smart move on his part.

So why was he sitting here shivering on the edge of the pool with a full head and an empty heart? He’d just treat Amanda the way he treated all of his lovers—as temporary and exchangeable diversions.

And he hoped like hell she fell for his ruse because if she called him on his bluff, he wouldn’t be able to deny that he thought of her as more than a bedmate. And that, being honest with her about his feelings, was a truly terrifying proposition.

Shade returned to the house and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. If he started to act unlike himself, she’d figure out that he was hiding something. She was a smart woman and for some reason, she read him like a book. Most people believed his devil-may-care act, but not Amanda.

He’d just finished frying turkey sausage and was adding pancake batter to a hot griddle when she entered the room. She’d borrowed one of his white dress shirts, but her legs were bare. He pretended she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen just so he wouldn’t intensify the morning-after awkwardness between them by staring at her. By stalking her across the kitchen By pressing her up against the counter and f**king her senseless again.

“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Morning. And yes, I’m starving.”

Shade’s belly tightened when Amanda’s hands slipped around his waist from behind.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” she said in a sleep-slurred voice. Her hands roamed his abdomen. “Do your talents know no bounds?”

“I’m sure there’s something I suck at,” he said with a grin.

“I could figure out something for you to suck on.”

He was surprised she was still capable of playful banter; he’d expected her to be embarrassed and ashamed. But he should have known better. Amanda always went with the flow. If she felt any awkwardness at all this morning, she hid it well.

“If you don’t stop coming on to me,” he said, “I’m going to think you’re attracted to me or something.”

“An amazing voice, gorgeous body, great in bed, a talented cook and smart. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

Shade scowled. Smart? Not even. He’d take credit for those other traits—they happened to be true—but he wasn’t smart. He could barely read.

“What did I say?” Amanda said.

God, he kept forgetting he wasn’t wearing his f**king sunglasses. “Nothing.” He shoveled several pancakes onto a plate and added more batter to the pan.

“I said something. You’re broody all of a sudden.”

“Your pancakes are ready.”

She sighed. “You don’t have to be guarded with me, Jacob. I’m not going to poke holes in your oversensitive ego.”

He chuckled. He’d never had anyone accuse him of being oversensitive. Just the opposite. Cold. Self-centered. Hard. That’s why the sunglasses came in so handy.

“Go eat your pancakes.”

“I want to eat with you. I’ll wait.” She pressed her forehead to his shoulder while he flipped the pancakes in the pan.

“You’re not supposed to get attached, Amanda.” And neither was he. Damn. What had he started here? Something he couldn’t possibly finish. Boneheaded move, Silverton.

“I’m not.” Her hands slid up over his belly. “My hands just refuse to trade the feel of this luxury for something as ordinary as a fork.”

He smiled. How did she do it? Make him feel so good about himself? Just being in her company made him happy. And had him contemplating ways to see her again.

See? Not smart. He turned off the burner and scooped pancakes onto a second plate.

“I suppose this means I have to let you go now.” Her hands wandered up his bare chest.

“I did go to the trouble of making you breakfast.” Which went against all his rules about morning-after routines. Get them up and out of the house as fast as possible. Or better yet, leave on the tour bus as soon as the sun rose over the horizon.

“I appreciate that. I definitely worked up an appetite last night.” She stepped away and smacked his ass.

He sat across from her at the small round table in the breakfast nook. It overlooked the pool, so he stared out the window instead of meeting her eyes.

“You regret it,” she said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Neither of them had even touched their meal.

He jerked his gaze from the pool and concentrated on his breakfast.

He did regret it. Not the amazing time they’d had together, but the complications it brought. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, because all signs pointed to getting her out of his life as soon as possible, but his foolish heart was breaking at the very idea. He could get by without ever having sex with her again but never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh or having her tease him mercilessly in a way that no one else dared to? Those were the things about her that he couldn’t do without. And by making things physical between them, he was certain that he’d have to give up everything else he adored about her.