His mouth was dry. He had to remind himself she was talking about work. “I need you.”
“Then I’ll stay.” Her mouth curved into a smile. “And I promise not to pounce on you in the night, so you don’t need to take refuge on the sofa. And now we’ve got that out of the way, we can carry on as if nothing has changed.”
He wished it was that simple.
He wished he could pretend nothing had changed, but it had. It was like trying to close the door on an overfull closet. Everything stored there was pushing back, trying to escape after years of being locked inside out of sight.
Maybe she thought this was one-sided. Maybe she didn’t understand how hard he was struggling not to push aside everything decent inside himself and take sanctuary in her warmth and her generosity.
He said nothing as she served him another helping and made him a coffee that was exactly the way he liked it.
Everything she did was exactly the way he liked it.
The only way to deal with it was to go back to work.
After finishing his second helping, he stood up and loaded his plate into the dishwasher with a clatter. “Thank you for breakfast.” His tone was rougher than he’d intended but she didn’t seem offended. He was coming to the conclusion that she was one of those rare people who had an intuitive grasp of another’s emotions, and respected them.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for the orgasm.” She turned pink. “Forget I said that. I’m still half-asleep.”
No matter how tense the situation, she always made him smile.
“You’re only thanking me for one? What about the others?”
“I lost count.”
His gaze met hers and the air in the apartment heated with the shared intimacy.
He thought that if he did what he was burning to do it would end in disaster and she wouldn’t be thanking him for anything.
She’d be cursing the fact she’d ever met him.
* * *
The storm had now fully passed, the streets were cleared and gradually people were venturing out again, wrapped up against the cold as they prepared for the holiday season. There were gifts to be purchased and wrapped, trees to be decorated, store windows to admire and parties to attend.
Eva concentrated on her work and tried not to think too much about that night with Lucas.
It had been so special it deserved to be thought about, but at the same time thinking about it made her yearn for something that wasn’t on offer.
Neither of them spoke about it, but that didn’t mean the tension wasn’t there. It simmered under the surface, creating tiny ripples in the otherwise smooth atmosphere. Until now she hadn’t realized how much could be conveyed by a touch or a glance.
She envied Lucas his self-control.
“I mean, if it was me, I wouldn’t be able to resist.” She spoke to Paige, while she stirred, whisked and baked. She’d told her friends the truth about what had happened that night, omitting everything Lucas had told her. That wasn’t hers to share. “He’s the kind of guy who can have chocolate in the house and not eat it. Why wasn’t I blessed with ruthless self-control? I’d be thin and successful.”
“You were blessed with plenty of other things, and no man would swap your curves for ‘thin.’”
“You think I’m fat?” She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see her bottom. “I’ve been using Lucas’s exercise bike every day and lifting weights. I’m looking toned, but not thin. Probably because I haven’t mastered self-control.”
“Self-control is overrated. So he hasn’t mentioned that night? Not once?”
“Apart from the very awkward morning-after-the-night before conversation, no.” She sifted more flour into the bowl. “We’re ignoring it. On the surface, at least.” Underneath? Underneath the tension was rising. The time they spent together was so intense it was becoming harder and harder to behave normally. She’d almost reached the stage where she couldn’t remember what normal was.
“Mmm.” Paige didn’t sound convinced. “Are you sure you’re happy to stay there? I wouldn’t want you getting serious about him.”
Eva pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge. “I’m not serious.”
“I know you. With you, sex is always serious. I don’t want you to get hurt.”