This is going to be even harder than I thought. Literally, because I can see the growing bulge in his jeans. A big, thick bulge that—
Ugh, stop it, Emma. Yanking my mind out of the X-rated gutter, I call forth every ounce of my fury and advance into the room. “You broke your promise. You said you’d keep your mouth shut and—”
“I never said that.” His eyes narrow. “I said I ‘got it’—as in, I understood what you wanted me to do. I never promised to do it, though.”
My molars clench so hard I’ll have a toothache tomorrow. “Stop splitting hairs. You knew what I thought, and you played me. I told you what you had to do to stay, and you did the exact opposite. You lied to my grandparents—”
“Did I?” He folds his arms across his chest, causing his shirt to outline the impressively defined muscles underneath. “What did I say that was untruthful?”
“You said I’m moving in with you!” I almost shout the words, but at the last moment, I remember where we are and lower my voice to a whisper-hiss. “That is a complete lie, and you—”
“Oh, but you are. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
I stare at him, taken aback by the unshakeable certainty in his voice. Is he delusional, or just that used to getting his way? Has no woman ever told him no?
Wait a minute.
Is that why he’s here?
Because I rejected him and became a challenge once again?
I wondered about that when he disappeared earlier this week—whether that’s what my appeal to him had been all along. I doubt many women have sent him away in recent years, but that’s exactly what I did the night he broke down the door in my apartment. Of course, less than two weeks later, I caved and we had that amazing weekend together.
A weekend during which I ceased to be a challenge.
Is that it? Is that what all of this is about?
I told him no once again?
If so, he didn’t lie about wanting me instead of Emmeline. He does want me, and he will until I give in—at which point he’ll lose interest, like he did this weekend.
And this time, he might disappear for good.
My anger fades, replaced by a squeezing ache in my chest, and I turn away, my eyes stinging anew.
I can’t do this. Not even for my grandparents.
I have to put a stop to this charade.
Steeling myself, I step toward the door—only to stop when big, warm hands land on my shoulders.
Gently, he pulls me toward him, molding my back against the hard planes of his body. “Come to bed, kitten,” he murmurs in my ear, his deep, velvety voice caressing me like a touch. “It’s late, and we’ve both had a long day. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow, I promise.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the stinging tears in. My treacherous heart is beating much too fast at his nearness, my body turning boneless and languid. His masculine scent surrounds me, a familiar mixture of pine and fresh breeze, and his erection is thick and hard against my lower back.
He wants me.
He definitely wants me.
And God help me, I want him too.
“Emma.” His voice lowers another octave. “Look at me.”
He could turn me around easily, but he doesn’t. His powerful hands rest on my shoulders, unmoving, and I know he’s leaving it up to me.
Look or don’t look.
Stay or go.
I can walk out of this room, tell my grandparents the truth, and end this insanity right now.
I can salvage what remains of my heart.
Except… he did come all the way here. Would a man do that just because a woman he was losing interest in decided not to see him? Private plane or not, it’s a two-plus-hour flight and time out of his busy schedule. Even chasing me down at the airport seems like a lot of effort if I’m nothing more than an amusing challenge.
Is it possible?
Could he have truly meant some of the things he said?
Does he want me to move in out of something more than logistical considerations?
My feet seem to reach a decision before my brain does, and I turn around, tipping my head back to meet his gaze.
For a second, we just stare at each other, our bodies so close we’re nearly touching. His hands are still on top of my shoulders, the heat from his palms seeping into me, warming me down to my toes. I can see the primal hunger in his eyes, but underneath, there’s something softer, gentler.
Something that makes my chest ache in an entirely different way.
“Emma.” He tenderly cups my jaw. “Give this—us—another chance.”
I draw in an unsteady breath, my heart thudding in my ribcage.
A chance.
He’s asking for a chance.
Another chance for him to hurt me.
Or maybe, just maybe, to find out if this could be real.