Searching for Always (Page 32)

“In a minute. Did you study computers in school?”

She shifted in the chair. “I graduated with a double master’s in psychology and computer science.”

“How’d you end up working here?”

“My friends and I discussed the benefits of opening up our own business and using each of our strengths to create a unique spot in the market.”

Huh. She was lying. Her gaze dropped down to the floor when she spoke. Now he was dying to know how this matchmaking business got started. “I’m impressed. Most businesses fail, especially ones started with friends.”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m so glad. Now I can sleep at night.”

“I know better ways to make you sleep.” He paused. “Or not.”

She sucked in a breath, and that weird zing burst between them. He’d only meant to tease her and get her irritated. Instead, the joke was on him. He was suddenly hard and aching to trap her against that chair and kiss her. Long. Deep. Find out if she tasted as sweet as sugar cookies warm from the oven. See if she melted all soft and gooey once he pushed his tongue past her lips and his hands past her clothing. And now he’d moved from comparing her to animals to food. He was losing it.

“Don’t.”

The word shot in the room like a bullet. He’d made her uncomfortable. A surge of adrenaline and satisfaction mingled. He grinned real slow. “Why not?”

“Because as I told you the other night, I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like you either. Does it matter?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. The thin material of her shirt stretched across perfectly small, perfectly formed breasts. Her nipples were already hard. “To me it does. Unlike you, Officer Petty, I don’t jump into bed to scratch an itch. I need a connection beyond the physical.”

“Is that what you had with your last lover? A connection?”

He regretted the sudden pain that flickered over her face and cursed beneath his breath. Damn. He didn’t want to hurt her. He was curious as to what type of man had claimed her heart and stomped all over it. She’d defended him regarding his good-guy intentions, but he sensed the truth was quite different. When she’d finally given his name, something had flared in those green eyes. A hot anger rolled up with raw pain. It was the real stuff buried beneath all that meditation junk she always threw in his face. Stone opened his mouth to apologize, but she was already answering.

“Yes. At least I followed my heart. When I die, I intend to have little to regret. Not taking a chance on love would be one of them.”

He’d never met a woman so deep and ready to get real. When he proposed to Ellen, he figured he was following his heart. Now he realized he’d only been in lust and too lazy to wait. Too lazy to figure things out. Too lazy to make it work when the relationship got hard. And though he’d never forgive or forget, part of the relationship failure was solidly on him. A trickle of shame raced through him. Something told him Arilyn Meadows wouldn’t shrink from difficulty. She’d flourish.

He shifted in the chair. When had his complete dislike turned to sexual interest? In only a few days, she’d begun to intrigue him on a whole new level. Physical, of course. Nothing more. “What about passion? Isn’t that the foundation for love? Wouldn’t you regret being too focused on the future and missing an opportunity to experience great sex?”

Her lips were pale peach. He wondered if her nipples matched. The bottom of that lush lower lip curled up a bit. “No.”

The simple answer bugged him. Another lie. It was in the tilt of her stubborn chin, and the challenge sizzling in those emerald eyes. Damn, she’d be fun to try and push around. Ripping the truth from her in breathy little gasps while he pushed between her thighs may be worth the trouble.

Maybe.

“Then you’ve never experienced true passion,” he said.

That got her. Annoyance carved out her graceful features. She wasn’t as calm as she made people believe. “Yes, I have. You have no idea how great the passion was between us.”

Defensive. Cheater? The image of his wife, naked, on top of another man, still panged. He despised cheaters and their cowardice. Hated not being able to fight fairly and being made a chump. He could’ve forgiven Ellen for a multitude of sins but not that one.

“I’m not talking about good sex. A few orgasms. A cuddle. I’m talking about the down-and-dirty lust that wipes everything else from your mind except how your body feels against your lover. Over him. Under him. The feel of naked skin. The sweat, and the smells, and the excruciating, sweet agony of need for him to take you completely, over and over, until there’s nothing left of both of you.”

Her mouth formed a little O, and sweat broke out on her upper lip. Her fingers clenched in her lap, and Stone knew she was completely turned on. Her nipples beaded against her top. The pulse beat madly at the base of her swanlike neck. And he knew if he walked over to her right now, tipped her chair back, and hooked his fingers under those tight Lycra pants, she’d be soaking wet.

Playing with her affected him just as much, and he tried not to shift again in his chair as he hardened to full length. Why did he have to experience such chemistry with a woman completely wrong for him? In one week they’d tear each other apart, they were so different. Yet his primitive need to claim her beat through his body like an animal craving to mate.

“That—that was inappropriate.” Her voice wobbled. “You know nothing about how we felt for each other. We transcended the physical to an emotional bond you’d be afraid to experience. A man like you believes in a quick roll in the hay, and a quicker retreat in the morning.”