“I don’t think that’s what that metaphor is supposed to mean.”
“That’s what it means to me.”
“Good. I like that way of looking at it,” he says, scooting closer. “And I agree.”
“You do?”
He reaches down, gently prying my hand from between my thighs and taking it in both of his. I cringe and try to snatch it back, but he holds on tight.
“No,” I whimper, but I don’t try to pull away again. “My hand is sweaty. Coffee always makes my hands sweaty.”
“I don’t care,” he says, with a conviction that makes me believe him.
“You like sweaty hands?” I whisper, mesmerized by the way his face is tilting closer to mine.
“I like your hands,” he says. “I like you. Period. And not just as a friend.”
My eyes stretch so wide they start to ache at the edges. “But we… I called you Satan for years.”
“You did,” he says, his face moving closer still.
“And we fight like cats and dogs.”
“We’re not fighting now,” he says, twining his fingers through mine, making my nerve endings do a spastic little dance. “And we haven’t really fought since September. Since you set me straight about Evie. Thank you for that, by the way. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, and I have you to thank for that.”
“You’re the one who changed,” I breathe. “I just helped you see what was happening. Offered some p-perspective.” I try to swallow, but my throat is too tight. I want to kiss him so badly, it’s ridiculous, but I’m also unexpectedly freaked out.
I suspected Derrick wanted to bang me as much as I want to bang him, but I never imagined he might want more. That he might actually like me.
“I like your perspective,” he murmurs, his lips so close to mine that I can smell the sweet and bitter scent of sugary coffee on his breath. It’s a smell I love, but right now it makes my stomach clench.
I’m not ready for this. I don’t know what to do with sweet, sexy Derrick who wants to kiss me and give me compliments. I only know that dropping my guard as much as he seems to be dropping his, terrifies me into such a state that my palms are suddenly twin fountains gushing anxiety sweat all over my thigh and his fingers.
I pull away with a choked, breathless laugh that I’m sure isn’t fooling him for a second and stand, jabbing a thumb toward the bathroom. “I should brush my teeth. And go to sleep. I’m punch drunk. I can’t study or think or make decisions right now. I’m too…me.” I wince and shake my head with another unconvincing laugh. “I mean, too fried. It’s been a long day.”
“It has and we have to be up at ten tomorrow if we’re going to get some skiing in before the sleigh ride.”
“I think I’ll skip skiing,” I say. “Lauren is going to make ornaments with the kids in the lobby at ten. I’m sure she’d appreciate some help since Chuck isn’t getting here until Thursday. Just to keep the girls from getting glitter in their hair and Keith from supergluing his fingers together if nothing else.”
“Do they have superglue at the kids’ craft table?”
I flop my hands at my sides as I back toward the bathroom. “Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m out of touch with crafts. I haven’t crafted since middle school. I resist all of Evie’s attempts to put me in touch with my artsy-fartsy side.”
“Same,” he says. “But maybe I’ll give it a try. I could join you guys. That way we’d have one adult per kid.”
I wave a hand as I step inside the bath and grab the door. “No, you go ski. Enjoy yourself. I don’t want to ruin your entire vacation, just part of it.”
He smiles. “You’re not ruining it at all. But okay. I’ll go skiing and then meet up with you guys for the sleigh ride.”
“Sounds good,” I say closing the door as I add, “Night.”
He murmurs something from the other side that I assume is a wish for me to have a good night, too, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it. He’s confused and has every right to be. He just told me he liked me, and I made a break for the closest hiding place after reminding him that I called him names like it was my mission in life for years.
If our positions were reversed, I’d be mortified right now. My stomach would be twisted into shame knots, and I’d be planning my escape first thing in the morning.
Hell, I’m not even the one who went out on a limb, and I’m ready to bolt. I don’t know how to do this, and I don’t know how not to do this. If I stay, I will end up kissing Derrick again—or worse. And with feelings involved on both our parts, that could get real messy, real quick.