Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(25)
Author: Erin McCarthy

So I just stood there and waited, studying his beard scruff, wanting to touch it. To touch him. Everywhere.

His free hand snaked around behind my waist and he did something at the computer. The music filled the room. It was electronic, ultimately a dance song for a club, yet it was more than that. It had nuances and layers. It was raw and emotional, pounding, anguished. Was that how he saw me? Or as he put it, heard me?

Cupping my cheek, he caressed my skin and I sighed. I had been getting bits and pieces of that touch, that tender connection, since the minute he’d arrived at Richfield. I craved his touch now. I wanted more. I wanted all of him.

“I keep thinking that I have no right to keep you here, like this. But I can’t stop myself. I can’t let you go. It’s selfish, but I’m tired of being reasonable. I spent four years being reasonable. Now I just feel defiant.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Devin?” I asked, because I had to hear it. I had to know. We could dodge and weave around the sexual tension between us forever. Though there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just about desire. Sex. We couldn’t pretend that our feelings were just simple and platonic friendship.

“Just this.”

And he bent down and kissed me.

I kept my eyes open until the very last second, because I wanted to watch the desire in his gaze, I wanted to let him see mine back, before allowing them to drift shut. He was a beautiful man, features strong, unusual. Maybe he wasn’t traditionally attractive, but to me, he epitomized a strong, sexy man. His mouth brushed mine, briefly, not tentative, but teasing. Just a hint, a whisper, then he was gone, lips hovering over mine, his warm breath caressing me. His thumb stroked my cheek and he kissed first the right corner of my mouth, then the left.

“God,” he breathed. “I’ve been wanting to touch you so much. I’ve been fantasizing about kissing you. But I didn’t want to ruin things. I didn’t want to take what I don’t deserve.”

Giving in to my urge, I pulled my hand from his and slid it up his chest, feeling the contours of his body. He was warm beneath his T-shirt. Hard. Sighing in pleasure, I kept going, up to his beard scruff. It was softer than I expected. He was watching me, not speaking, his grip on my waist tightening. Instinctively, without thought or planning or concern for the consequences, I moved my hand into his hair, and guided his head back towards mine.

That hadn’t been enough. Not after three weeks of teasing.

This time, I kissed him, and it wasn’t light. It was a desperate, urgent press, lips open. He groaned in the back of his throat right as the music swelled around us in a fast-paced crescendo. Devin yanked me against him and I collided with his chest, felt his erection against my thigh. Desire clouded my judgment, yet fear prevented me from fully falling over the edge of no return. More than a kiss was more than I could handle until I knew what we were doing.

I tore myself away from him, panting, fingers gripping his shirt. “I like this song.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “God, you’re killing me. Now go away before I do something we both regret.”

He sounded surly and bitter. It made me smile. “What would I regret, Devin? Explain it to me.”

“This. Us.”

“What us? Us kissing? Or more than that?”

He gave an exasperated groan. “Tiffany. Leave me alone.”

That was so ridiculous I knew there was no pressing him any further right then. He had retreated behind his emotional wall.

So I let it go. It was enough that he’d kissed me, enough that I could still taste him on my lips. Enough to know that slowly, surely, he was caving.

“Sure. I’m fixing lunch if you want to come down and eat.”

“No, I do not. I’m busy.” He physically shifted me away from him.

I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see my possibly smug smile. He didn’t trust himself around me, and that was seriously hot. Plus he was working on a song inspired by me. “Can I at least meet Cat in town then? I can ride my bike.”

“It’s twenty degrees outside.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll drive you.” He had sat back down and crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “Give me two hours.”

“Thanks.” Then with a boldness I didn’t know I had I bent down and kissed him again. It was meant to be a light tease, a thank you, a see you in a bit, but Devin put his hand firmly on my ass and hauled me up against him.

He devoured my mouth. He kissed me like he hadn’t touched a woman in a decade. Like I was everything.

I clung to his shoulders and let him sweep me under, with his lips, his tongue. He teased, he took, he tasted, and no fumbling kiss I’d had before could have ever prepared me for that. I felt it everywhere. From the roots of my hair to my tingling br**sts, to my aching inner thighs. I felt alive, my skin sensitive, body deeply and fully aware of him.

He broke off and studied my face, his breathing heavy. “You have two choices. Go downstairs and make lunch.”

When he didn’t continue, I raised my eyebrows. “That’s only one choice.”

But he shook his head, his eyes dark and full of lust. “The other one isn’t an option. Never mind.”

“Why not?” I knew what he was thinking, knew him so well now I could practically hear his thoughts. Option two was I could climb on his lap and we would have sex, right there, right then.

He was right. It wasn’t really an option. I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to with every fiber of my being. But at the same time I was terrified. My experience was too limited for this position. For now.

“Sometimes I have the ability to stop my selfish tendencies. Not always. But sometimes. One step at a time, ma petite amie.”

He’d retreated to the friend title again. I could live with that. Because he was right. One step at a time.

But what he wasn’t realizing was that I had infinite patience. I’d spent day in and day out for the last four years taking care of an old woman who hated me and I hadn’t gone insane. I could wait for him to grapple with his conscience and conclude that he could have sex with me and still live with himself.

Given the look on his face, I wouldn’t have long to wait.

“I’ll bring you up a sandwich,” I said, shifting out of his touch.

His sour look almost made me laugh.

He turned back to his computer. “You’re dismissed, Tiffany.”

Asshole worked well on him. There was no way I was going to let it affect me though, not when I knew the truth. “Of course, Mr. Gold. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”