43. Dane

Iwaited. Patrick hadn't said anything since we'd entered the party room. He just stared at me, as though I should be the one to begin his apology.

His leg bobbed as he tapped his foot, making a slapping sound echo off the walls.

The longer we sat like that, the faster his bouncing became. I imagined his heart beating faster to keep up. Mine was certainly sprinting.

That was silly when I thought about it. Why should I be nervous? I was the one he'd hurt, the one he'd stabbed or betrayed or whatever. If anything, I should be steaming, boring holes through him with an angry glare. All my focus should be set on making him squirm like the lying snake he was.

But he wasn't a snake. He was Patrick.

I knew he was a good guy. At least, I thought he was. We'd only known each other a short time, but I was certain he was a solid dude based on our time together. If nothing else, I knew he had a solid, very firm, very perky ass.

That won bonus points, right?

A dirty blond curl had fallen across his forehead, probably the same stubborn lock I'd pushed back time and again. I wanted to reach up, to gently move it back, to feel the sensitive skin of my fingertips brush the smoothness of his forehead. I wanted to see his eyes close and feel him press his cheek into my palm like he'd done before.

Seeing him so out of sorts, so clearly uneasy, should've given me satisfaction, but it only made me want to wrap him in my arms and comfort him.

"I really fucked up, didn't I?"

Those were his first words. He'd said them while staring at my new shoes. His eyes didn't lift when he spoke. I was pretty sure he held his breath.

"You got on page one," I said, immediately wondering what demon had inhabited my body and spoken through my mouth.

He finally looked up. His eyes weren't proud or triumphant at his career milestone; they were brimming with remorse, so full my chest ached at the sight. If I'd wanted to move his hair back, I ached to wipe the tear that fell.

One single tear.

I watched it swell then break free of his eye to trickle down his cheek. Neither of us moved, so it fell onto the floor.

"Was it worth it?" I asked.

I could've punched him and his face wouldn't have shown more alarm and pain than it did with that question. He sat back in his chair and hugged himself with his arms.

"If … if you're asking if I would do it again, knowing everything I know now, the answer, I think … Yes, I would."

I hadn't expected that admission. Shock peaked my brows.

He drew in a breath and continued. "Dane, the story was coming out. Alex was getting arrested. No matter what I did, his family's lives were changing forever, and there was no stopping it."

"So why did you lie about the article? About why you wanted a station tour and all that?" My neck flared hot, and my chest burned.

"When I told you I didn't know about any of this when we met, that was the truth. I didn't get the tip until we'd been out a couple of times." He unfolded his arms. For the briefest moment, I thought he might lean forward, but he didn't. "I never lied to you about why I was there or why I wanted to see the station. I definitely never lied about why I wanted to be with you."

I glared, desperate for any sign he was telling the truth or lying or whatever the fuck interrogators looked for when questioning a suspect. I was a miserable judge of such things. I wanted to believe people, to have faith in their goodness. I wanted to trust … until they proved I couldn't anymore.

Had Patrick done that? Had he proved I couldn't trust him?

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," I snapped. "You made me look like an idiot to my team and captain, but you didn't hurt me. You hurt Alex and his kids and wife."

"I'm sorry for his family." He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling. "I really am, but you have to know that was going to happen with or without my article. That's how news works. Stories always get out."

Aside from what Patrick had told me, I didn't know anything about the news business, but what he said made sense. In a day where Professor Google and Dr. YouTube revealed almost everything, were there still secrets? Were they even possible?

Maybe he was right about Alex and that whole affair, but he'd still made me look like a dumbass in front of my station. If I let him back in, if I saw him again, what would they think? Would that make me weak; a guy who ate shit and then asked for another helping?

I studied his face a moment, pondering my ego's bruises.

His skin looked so smooth and unblemished, and I loved his hair, how it waved this way and that, never seeming to go in any direction but somehow laying down so it looked all styled. His nose lifted just a little at the tip. I wanted to tap it with my finger, like some proud grandfather doting on his favorite. And his mouth, dear god, I could suck on his perfect, full, beautiful lips for hours.

A very different heat flared in my chest as his tongue slipped out and he moistened his lower lip. I was pretty sure he hadn't done that for me, that he was still nervous or whatever, but it was so damn sexy. My heart raced.

"Can you forgive me? Will you?" he asked, his eyes finally braving the distance between us to lock onto my own. "If I promise to never keep secrets from you again?"

My racing heart stilled. I tried to breathe, but my throat suddenly went dry and gulping only made it worse. Even my eyes felt like sandpaper as I blinked again and again."Patrick, I don't … after all this, I just …I don't know."

He stared a moment longer, then stood and pushed his chair back under a table and leaned against the wall. Another darn curl joined its brother on his forehead.

I stood, shoved the kid's chair aside, and stepped toward him, reaching up to move the fucking hair away.

His head tilted into my touch. I thought my whole body might burst into flame, a match of desire struck against Patrick, now burning out of control.

I hadn't meant to cup his cheek. It just happened.

The moment his skin pressed into mine, my knees buckled. I reached out and braced myself with a hand on the wall, a hand that landed inches from his head, forcing us even closer together.

He smelled of pineapple and onions and … a hint of Dial soap.

I sucked in those scents like I'd never been able to smell and some magic had just granted me that sense. I held that breath, let my chest fill with him, until the heady sensation of Patrick thrummed through me.

My eyes were closed. When did I close my eyes?

I didn't see him lean forward. But I felt his breath a heartbeat before the warmth and moisture of his lips met mine.

I knew I should pull back, that I should grab my bowling bag and run out of that place, that I should leave Patrick for good and never look back. Everything about this was bad. I couldn't trust the guy, could I?

Maybe? A little?

Fuck, his lips felt good. I really missed his lips.

His hand gripped the back of my neck and dug into my hair, pulling me into him. I groaned. My body, still consumed by some demon, moved forward to press him into the wall. I wasn't rough, not like I'd been in my kitchen. I was gentle yet firm, pinning him there, letting the friction of our bodies moving slowly work a magic of its own.

Patrick shivered. His whole body trembled against mine, and I knew I couldn't stop. I knew I didn't want to.

I wanted Patrick. I wanted to believe him, to learn to trust him again.

Dammit, I wanted to be with him again.

I pulled back, only far enough so we breathed each other's air. "No secrets."

Clouds masking his eyes parted, and the sun itself shone through. "No secrets. Promise."

I kissed him again. His arms wrapped around my waist.

"God, I missed you," he breathed out.

"Me too," was all I could say before my tongue found his again.

The squeal of hinges in need of oil snapped our heads up.

"Uh, hi," the desk dude said from the doorway. Crimson bloomed beneath his pimpled skin. "I kinda need to close up, if you're, um, done bowling and stuff."

Patrick pressed his head into my neck, and I felt him laugh. I had to fight back a chuckle of my own. "No problem. Thanks, Geo. We'll be right out."

The door clicked as Geo retreated.

"You know the kid's name?" Patrick asked, lifting his head.

I shrugged. "Gotta practice in case the pro tour calls."

He chuckled and shook his head, then kissed me again.

"We need to get out of here," I said. "Wanna come back to my place? Pick up where we left off?"

He ran a hand over my chest and said, "Sure. Besides, I need to see this butt cheek impression you saved on your fridge. How do I know it's mine?"

"Guess you'll have to get naked and make another so we can compare."