Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(27)
Author: Monica Murphy

“I’m out of here in a few weeks. There’s no going back.” She lifts her chin, determination written all over her sad face. “My leaving is going to happen whether you like it or not. I will make it happen despite all of these recent . . . obstacles. So why can’t you give me a little bit of yourself? That’s all I want, Colin. And then I’ll walk away from you before it gets too complicated. It’s what you want, right? I know you don’t do complicated.”

I don’t do complicated because I saw what happened between my parents, and they’re the worst kind of complicated. No one understands them, least of all me.

Yet with Jen, it’s already complicated before it’s even begun. That’s how bad I have it for her. Once I have her, will I be able to walk away?

I don’t know.

“You’re going to turn me away yet again, aren’t you?” she asks when I don’t say anything. The irritation in her voice rings clear as her entire body goes tense. “I can’t believe it. I offer myself up to you with no strings attached and you’re trying to figure out how to let me down easy. God, I am such a moron!”

Unable to hold myself back, I rush toward her, angry that she would insult herself. Panicked that she really is going to walk away and I’m going to lose my chance. Thinking too much sucks. I need to just let it happen. Take this opportunity that she’s presenting me.

And let her go when our time is up.

“You’re not a moron,” I murmur, reaching for her. I cup her face in my hands and position her so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. I skim my thumbs across her cheeks, feel her shudder at my touch. “You make an offer like that and a man needs to process it first.”

The unshed tears still glimmer in her eyes and one escapes, leaving a damp trail across her skin. Leaning in, I stop its descent with my lips, tasting the salt, hearing the catch in her breath. “We do this and it’s not going to be some half-assed thing, you know,” I whisper.

She closes her eyes, her tears tangled in her long, thick lashes. “What’s it going to be, then?”

“A discovery.” I nuzzle her nose with my own, breathing in her scent, her very essence. God, I could devour her! It’s taking everything within me to keep calm and not unleash all over her. “An exploration.”

“That sounds like . . . research.” Her breath hitches in her throat when I drop a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “It’s the farthest thing from research.” I drift my lips across her cheek, blazing a hot path on her petal-soft skin. “You’re right when you said I don’t do commitment. The closest thing I’ve ever been to commitment is . . . what I share with you.”

She tentatively places her hands on my hips, her fingers curling into the waistband of my jeans. Having her hands on me sends little darts of fire throughout my insides, making me harden in an instant. She has no idea what sort of effect she has on me. How much restraint I’m using at this very moment not to throw her over my shoulder like an oversexed caveman and cart her off to my bedroom.

“But it can be no more than friendship with added . . . benefits.” I lift my head so I can look into her troubled gaze. She doesn’t like what I have to say and I don’t like it either, but I have to be honest. Stringing her along and making her believe this is something more is a mistake.

The two of us together would never work. I’m too damn selfish. I’d disappoint her. I’d hold her back when she needs her freedom. I’m not worthy of her. She’s everything sweet and good in my life, where there’s little sweet and good remaining.

I’ve kept her—and our relationship—as pure as possible even after all of these years. With the realization that she’s leaving me, that we’ll never be together again, I need to take my opportunities where I can.

Jen bites her lip and drops her gaze. “I can handle that.”

Her body language is more than telling me she doesn’t really want to handle that, but I can’t worry about it now.

I want her too damn much.

Chapter 11

Jen

What Colin is offering me is exactly what he offers every other woman who’s flitted in and out of his life. A temporary affair, something meaningless and conveniently disposable, since that’s all he can handle.

I’m the one who offered first. I have no one to blame but myself. So for once, I’ll take what I can get and screw the consequences. I want him, any way I can get him. The constant fight, the push-pull between us, has grown old.

My new mantra floats through my mind again and again.

Be free. Let go.

Bracing my hands on his hips, I lift up on tiptoe and brush my mouth against his. The kiss is soft, as chaste as can be, and he holds himself completely still. Almost as if he fears I’ll pull away from him if he makes a sudden move.

But that’s exactly what I want him to do. Make a move. Show that he wants me, anything to get this started between us. It’s been building for so long I’m not quite sure how to approach it.

I sometimes wonder if he pushes me away because I was a stripper. And that’s not even the worst of it. So I must work my hardest to keep my secret to myself. Even Fable doesn’t know the worst of it. No one ever will if I have my choice.

I push all negative thoughts of my recent past aside and kiss him again, my lips moving over his in gentle exploration. They’re soft, full, and damp, and he tastes like absolute heaven. He grabs hold of my waist when I wobble toward him, our chests brushing, and I hear his quick intake of breath. That tiny sound, the way his body tightens completely beneath my grip, fills me with a rush of power that’s positively heady.

He reacts to me. He wants me. Maybe just as bad as I want him.

Without saying a word he grabs hold of my waist, and I gasp when he picks me up and deposits me on the countertop. I’m above him now, though not by much considering he’s so tall. I stare into his eyes, winding my arms around his neck, my fingers sliding into his silky, soft hair. Those gorgeous blue eyes look back at me and I lean down, kissing him again. Groaning when his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, then nips at it with the edge of his teeth. A jolt moves through me at the deliciously sensual contact and I’m instantly hungry for more.

So much more. More than he’ll ever be able to give me. But I can deal with that.

“Open up, Jenny,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice husky and full of promise. No one calls me Jenny anymore. I put a stop to it when I was in the eighth grade, but hearing him say it sends a thrill running down my spine. “Let me in.”