When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(48)
Author: Brenda Novak

Considering his state of arousal, she was no longer worried about his ability to perform. Whatever had been holding him back certainly wasn’t physical. That was apparent.

He didn’t seem to hear her, didn’t acknowledge her halting words. “I admit that robe is pretty, but I’m far more interested in what’s underneath,” he said. “How about you take it off? Let me see you in that…whatever you call it.”

She edged around the foot of the bed. “Bustier.”

“That’s it.”

Tempted in spite of her reservations, she toyed with the ends of the belt. “Wouldn’t you like to…to talk about this first?”

“Haven’t I already made the answer to that question clear? What I’d like is to feel you against me.”

He continued to advance on her, but she backed away an equal number of steps. “You were hesitant,” she pointed out. “You didn’t want me.”

“Not true. It’s complicated. But I’m not holding back anymore.”

She swallowed hard. “You must’ve had a reason for holding back in the first place.”

“I don’t want to think about that.”

“You will later, whether you want to or not.”

“I’ll deal with it in my own time.”

“See? I’d feel terrible if you regretted it later. I prefer to imagine you happy as you drive off into the sunset—and to think that you’ll smile when you remember me.”

“How about you put a smile on my face right now?”

Obviously, he wasn’t picking up on everything she was saying. He could only concentrate on meeting the demands of his body, which made her doubly conscious of how she was misleading him. But maybe she was overthinking it. After all, he couldn’t be taking this too seriously. He hadn’t even told her his real name.

“What do I call you?” she asked.

He reached her and held her against the wall, hands at her waist, eyes on mouth. “What are you saying now?”

“Levi feels silly since I know it’s not your name.”

“It is my name.”

The feral gleam in his eyes gave her goose bumps. “Levi what?”

“Who cares?”

See? She had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t even willing to tell her his last name. He’d be gone by morning. “I guess no one,” she admitted.

“Are we done with the nervous jitters?”

“I think so.”

“Great. Let’s get rid of this,” he said, and tugged off her robe.

* * *

Callie’s mouth was hot and wet and parted just when Levi wanted it to. Behrukh hadn’t been able to kiss him with such abandon for months. She’d never kissed anyone else, and she was so frightened of what she was feeling, and of getting caught with him, that she’d resisted learning. He’d never forget how stilted and wooden she’d been when he first touched his lips to hers, how many times he’d had to kiss her before she grew warm and pliable and responsive. But he’d understood. She’d been told Americans were infidels, that he’d drag her down to hell if she even spoke to him. It was remarkable that they’d been able to overcome all that. It’d taken him months of stopping in at the store where she worked, of smiling at her until she’d at least meet his eyes, of flirting with her when her father was gone. And then it took several more months before he could convince her to meet him somewhere else so they could talk, touch. Kiss.

Ironically, now that she was gone, he missed all those early experiences as much as everything else about her.

The fact that Callie was nothing like Behrukh wasn’t as easy to overlook as he’d first thought. She was beautiful and sensuous and as pliable as Behrukh had been stiff and unyielding. But she smelled all wrong and moved all wrong. He didn’t want a substitute—he wanted to make love with the woman who owned his heart, with Behrukh. When he closed his eyes he could almost feel the swell of her belly beneath his hand, feel the excitement of knowing his baby grew in her womb.

But Behrukh was gone. So was their child. And he couldn’t seem to overcome the loss.

Unable to continue, he pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I…can’t. I just…can’t.”

Callie was panting slightly as she looked up at him. “Did I do something that triggered a…a bad memory or—”

“It’s not you.” He closed his eyes as he stepped away from her and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “It’s me. I shouldn’t have started this.”

“Because…”

He met her gaze. “I’m in love with someone else, Callie.”

She flinched as if he’d slapped her, and he cursed his own stupidity. He should’ve told her before, but there’d seemed so little point in talking about a woman who no longer existed. He’d thought he could finally get beyond the past.

Just seconds ago, he’d been determined to do so.

But he couldn’t persuade his heart to betray Behrukh, not even her memory.

“I see.” Callie smiled, but he could tell by the emptiness in her eyes that her pleasant expression was a front. “I understand. To be faithful to someone…that’s an admirable thing.”

She scrambled to reclaim her robe as though she was suddenly embarrassed to let him see her without it, and he regretted that he couldn’t make her feel as attractive as she was.

“I support you one hundred percent,” she added, filling the silence as she jammed her arms through the sleeves and averted her gaze. He was still naked, but he didn’t care about that. He wanted to be naked. He wanted to make love. He wanted to find himself again. But it was impossible. He couldn’t overcome the resistance in his heart and his head.

“I didn’t know or…I wouldn’t have…bought this,” she was saying. “I feel silly, of course.”

He couldn’t move. Even now he was torn between touching her and just getting the hell out, before he made matters worse. “Don’t feel silly. It’s me, like I said. And it’s not that I’m cheating. The situation isn’t what you think.”

She chuckled without mirth. “I don’t even know what I think! I mean, you’re not g*y—”

“No!” He shook his head. “This isn’t history repeating itself. What your intuition’s been telling you—that I’m attracted to you, that I want you—it’s true. If only I’d met you before.”