Chapter 11

eleven

Olympia

He said please.

I lower to the couch beside him, unsure what kind of game he’s playing. He must be playing a game, because if I’ve learned anything about Tav in the week that I’ve lived with him, it’s that he avoids spending time with me. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. Ever.

As soon as he wakes in the morning, he leaves. He doesn’t come back until late.

Usually, he comes back so late, I’m already in bed. And I’ve been known to be a night owl. The man has been avoiding me for an entire week. But tonight, he suddenly wants to spend time with me? He’s joined me on the couch for popcorn and movies? He’s trying to have conversations?

Why? What is he after?

If he’s trying to make me warm to him after the response I got when I arrived, it’s not going to work. I don’t trust him enough to give him the will, even if there’s a big part of me that knows it would be the right thing to do.

I wish I could. I wish that when I arrived, he would have looked at me the way he looked at me when I was a child. With affection.

It didn’t even have to be the kind of affection a man holds for a woman. It could have been that brotherly affection that he used to have for me. I would have been happy with that. Sure, it would have stung a bit. But at least with that, I would have trusted him enough to give him the will. I would have felt secure that he would keep me safe in the time it took me to acquire my trust.

But that’s not how he took me appearing in his life. Now, I don’t trust him.

I can’t trust him. He’s not trustworthy.

In fact, I think he might even be more manipulative than my own family. More calculating. That’s saying something.

It’s crushing to think that way about the man I’ve always held on a pedestal. It’s brutal to know that your hero isn’t so much of a hero after all.

Pulling the blanket onto my lap, I snuggle into the cushions as I do my very best to ignore the man, I share the couch with.

He said he believes me, but I’m not so sure.

I don’t know why he suddenly would when he hasn’t before. Nothing I’ve said before this moment has seemed to penetrate. He thinks I’m scheming, and I hate that I understand why. We’re both scheming. We both need something from the other, and we’re manipulating to get it.

I wish I could start over, but I can’t. We can’t.

So, this is where we are.

I force thoughts of us from my mind, but I can’t entirely ignore the man beside me. I can feel the heat from his body, and I’m entirely aware of the way that he continuously shifts closer. Even as I subtly scoot away.

We’re halfway through the movie when I realize I’m pinned to the arm of the couch. There’s nowhere else for me to go, and Tav is shifting closer again.

My heart is thundering in my chest. But the real bother is the hot heat I feel between my legs at his nearness. At the slow, exciting, anticipatory, slightly predatory way he stalked me into this corner.

“What are you doing?” The words come out as a husky whisper, and a new blast of heat spills in my chest.

“What do you mean?”

The man has got to be playing coy.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I demand, my hand flying in the space between us. Since there’s not much space between us, considering the fact he’s consumed it all, my hand nearly hits his chest, and it does touch mine. “You’re so close to me. Why?” I don’t let him answer as nerves spill from my mouth in the form of blurted words. “You have the whole couch. Move over.”

He cracks a smile. And then he laughs.

It’s like it can’t be helped. The sound simply bursts into the space between us, a grunted, unwilling laugh stripping him bare.

I think my eyes might bug from my head.

That drink must have gone to his.

“I don’t want to move away,” he tells me when he’s wrangled the laugh. “Like I said, I like the way you smell.”

My mouth drops.

I mean, it drops.

“You like the way I smell?” I repeat slowly.

He’s gotta be messing with me. The man’s been nothing but a moody ogre, and suddenly he ‘likes the way I smell’. As if.

What is he playing at?

And why can’t I get a read on him?

“Yeah, Princess. I like the way you smell.” From Pipsqueak to Princess. Have I died and gone to the fluffy beyond? I mean, for real?

Subtly, I pinch my thigh just to be certain this isn’t one of my dreams.

Ouch. Well, that hurt. Clearly not a dream.

I should have known by the way my heart flutters dramatically in my chest that this is the real deal. Well, maybe it’s not the real deal, considering I’m positive there’s an angle to this Mr. Nice Guy, act. Still, I’m affected.

I swallow hard. It’s humiliatingly audible.

“You’re sitting close to me because you like the way that I smell?” I just can’t leave well enough alone.

“Yep.”

Consider me dumbstruck. There’s no other word for it.

Considering there’s no word for it, I face forward again to give my attention to the movie. I really do love this movie, but it’s hard to focus when the man I’ve held a torch for, for years, is sitting this close to me.

No matter how I try, I can’t seem to calm the racing beats of my heart.

My flesh feels all tingly and aware. I’m stuck fighting the magnetic pull my body feels for him.

You hate him, remember, Pippa.It’s no use to remind myself. I might hate the man he’s become, but my body sure isn’t on board with that.

He’s an asshole. He hates you. He does all he can to stay away from you. He’d get rid of you if he could. But he likes the way you smell. He’s an asshole. But he likes the way you smell…

I’m hopeless.

My heart lurches abruptly when he shifts, lifting one arm to drop it behind me on the couch.

O.M.G. Is this for real right now?

I can’t believe this is happening.

I force my eyes to remain fixed on the screen even though the wet heat between my thighs is difficult—impossible—to ignore.

It only serves to remind me just how inexperienced I am. Would a sexually experienced, confident woman be wet from something so simple? I mean, really.

Flames of emotion heat my cheeks and I shift, squeezing my thighs tight. I wonder if he knows I’m aroused.

I wonder if he’s doing this to me on purpose.

Because I can’t stop myself, I sneak a peek.

He’s watching the movie, his jaw hard as always. I don’t think he knows.

I hope he doesn’t know.

Urgh, I need help.

“You’re looking at me.” God, I love how deep and rumbly his voice is.

“I’m confused.”

“By?” He’s still not looking at me.

“You.”

Finally, he turns to face me. Dark eyes pin mine, and I fight the urge to squirm. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

My lips part, but no words sound. I’m not sure I have any words to sound.

He waits, not once looking away from me.

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he cautions low.

I close my mouth, because I’d been about to do exactly that. Instead of answering, I deflect, “Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

I frown. “Don’t lie to me, Tav.”

He drops his arm from the back of the couch, his hand connecting with the skin at the back of my neck. His thumb slides down the side of my neck, up and down again, as his eyes take in my face. I think my heart stutters—maybe it even skips an entire sequence of beats—in my chest. He’s so warm, his skin against mine. So rough against my soft. He’s only touching my neck, but I feel like I’m seconds from bursting.

“Tav,” his name falls husky into the space between us. I don’t understand what’s happening right now.

“Say it again, Princess.”

I shake my head, confused. Say what again?

He leans closer, his eyes on my lips now. “Say. It. Again.”

“Tav?” It’s a protest, because I honestly don’t know what he wants me to say.

He covers my mouth with his, invading when I gasp. There is nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s hard, hot, and wet. He tastes like salt and butter with a hint of rum—and all him. His hand around the back of my neck pins me in place as he shifts his body to press into mine. Again, it’s a clash of hard against soft as his free hand moves to my hip, and he physically shifts my body until I’m lying, back arched slightly over the arm of the couch with his big body hovering over mine. Thankfully, my legs are clamped closed. His body brackets mine, one knee planted into the couch, his other foot on the floor. He is kissing me so deeply; I feel as though he’s trying to climb inside me.

My heart skitters as he pulls back to nip my bottom lip. “Christ.” He kisses me hard. Another nip, the tip of his tongue soothes, and he kisses me deep again. My head spins, my heart rioting against my ribs. The points of his fingertips nip into my hip as his hand moves from the back of my neck to the front, his big palm flat against my breastbone, fingertips splayed wide and to the side of my throat.

Every inch of my skin is on fire. Between my legs, he’s ignited a flame I can’t douse. I feel empty, needing something I know instinctively only he can give me. He pulls back from the bruising kiss as a whimper spills into the space between us, a plea from the depths of me that he answers with a softer kiss that melts me.

I feel shaken to the core.

What. In. The. World?

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you every minute of every day since I tasted your mouth.” His words are an unwilling truth. “You’re no good for me, Princess. You—being here—it’s not good. Not for either of us.”

He’s still hovering above me, but his words are like a bucket of ice water that seeps through skin to freeze the marrow of my bone.

I’m not sure if I want to beg him to kiss me or kick him in the gonads, stomp to my room, and slam the door.

Instead, I whisper, “Why?”

I hate that my hurt sounds loud in that single word. Hate that I know, as he searches my eyes with his dark ones, that my own are a reflection of everything I’m feeling. Because in this moment, I can’t pull that plastic smile onto my face. I can’t hide my raw-to-the-bone feelings behind practiced deflection.

He’s stripped me bare with a kiss.

I can only imagine what he’d do to me if he decided to take all I had to give. Surely, flay my very soul.

Finally, he answers. His words break me.

“Because there’s too much water under our bridge. It’s dirty, toxic water, Princess.” His eyes beg me to understand. It’s the softest, most raw I’ve seen the man look since I came to him. If his words hadn’t shattered me, the look in his eyes would have done the trick. “We’ll only hurt each other if we stay like this.”

Hardening myself against him, I lift my chin as I fight the sting of tears. Then I remind him, “We have a deal.”

He deflates, but he doesn’t move from his perch above me. “I’d like to propose a new deal.”

I clench my teeth. “Let’s hear it?”

“Let’s say we up the ante of this game.”

“The ante?” I’m not sure I’m going to like this.

I sincerely doubt whatever he’s going to propose is going to work in my favor.

“One month. Thirty days. We play at being real. In front of everyone.”

“We already are. We already have.”

He smirks, but there’s a cruel edge to it that makes me feel uneasy. “No, we haven’t. I kissed you once for a camera to snap a photo to piss off your family. Other than that, we’ve lived completely separate lives.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I propose a game. We make a show of playing this for real for thirty days. The one who fails—the one who makes it obvious it’s all fake—that’s the one who loses.”

My heart is beginning to pound. Cautiously, I ask, “What does the winner get?”

“If I win, you give me my mother’s will. The real will.” His eyes hold mine, and he adds softly, “And you leave, no questions asked. No argument or tricks.”

My voice shakes. “And if I win?”

“I’ll buy you a car. And you get to stay, no argument or tricks.”

“You’ll buy me a car?” I think of the fifteen grand I have to my name. If he bought me a car, I wouldn’t have to dip into my savings.

“Yes.”

“Any car?”

He smirks. “Whatever you want.”

“You’re that confident you’re going to win?”

His eyes flick to my lips before landing back on my eyes. My chest suddenly feels tighter. “I have a lot more experience than you.”

Fighting my frown, I shift under him. “How exactly are we going to convince people we’re together?”

“We act like a couple. A real couple. Often.”

“But not when we’re alone.”

He considers. “I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

Why do I like that he’s added that stipulation?I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But I do.

When I don’t respond, he presses, “So?” He dips his head, skating the blade of his nose over my collarbone. Goosebumps erupt across my flesh, and a gasp hitches in my throat. “Do we have a deal?”

“Sex is off the table.”

He smirks against my flesh, rumbling, “Says the woman who asked me to sully her.”

I make a noise in the deep of my throat. It’s half desperation and half annoyance with just a pinch of need. “I’m serious, Tav. Sex is off the table.” He pulls back to gaze down at me. “I don’t trust you like I thought I did. I won’t give you my innocence.” Shadows dance in the dark of his eyes, casting them into an ebony so deep and bottomless, I could get lost in them. Softer, quieter, I whisper, “I’m saving that for someone special.”

His eyes search mine. “You offered it to me a week ago on my porch. Are you saying you thought I was special then?”

“I did. Now, I know better.”

Every muscle in his body tenses. His jaw hardens, but he agrees gruffly, “Sex is off the table. Do we have a deal?”

“I pretend to be head over heels obsessed with you for thirty days, fooling everyone. When I win, you stop telling me you want me to move out. I get to live here, under your care and protection, until I turn twenty-one and am in possession of my inheritance, without you making a stink. Ever. And you buy me a car of my choosing. Those are the terms, when I win, correct?”

“If you win, those are the terms. But since I’m going to win, in thirty days, you’ll give me my mother’s will and you’ll move out of my house and life. For good. Until then, I’ll make sure no one has reason to suspect I’m not the most devoted man you could ever have. And sex might be off the table—” His thumb slides over my bottom lip. “But this mouth is mine whenever I want it.”

Am I really doing this?

“Those are the terms, Princess. So, tell me, do we have a deal?”

I feel a little as though I’m signing away my soul in blood as I nod slowly with this devil’s thumb pressed gently against the center of my bottom lip. Then I whisper, “Deal.”