6. AVA

6

AVA

I was going to go for it.

I had nothing left to lose.

The last two days had been nothing short of a whirlwind of emotions.

If Tate was being honest with me and didn't see me as a sister, if he was wildly attracted to me, then I was going to give this one last shot.

Maybe, especially after what the last sixteen months had been like for me, I should have reconsidered. Why would I be so willing to put myself in a situation where I'd already been rejected?

I couldn't help the way I felt. I'd loved Tate for as long as I could remember, and with his confirmation that he felt an attraction to me, I couldn't walk away without giving myself the chance to have at least one night with him.

He had reasons—reasons he didn't want to share with me now—for not being with me. I'd decided it didn't matter what they were. Not in this situation, anyway.

Tate was the kind of man who wasn't so easily swayed. He was controlled, restrained, and methodical. He didn't make decisions on a whim, and I wasn't foolish enough to presume I'd ever be able to convince him his reasons—whatever they were—were inconsequential compared to the life we could have had together.

But I could make one last-ditch effort to give myself this, to leave a piece of me with Tate that he'd have forever, a piece that I'd only ever wanted him to have.

I'd made up my mind, and since I wasn't coming back to Landing, I had to give it one last shot. Maybe, just maybe, I could get Tate to bend just enough to give me that. One night with him before I left, tried to heal my heart, and never looked back.

I still wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage any of that—this town, the Westwoods, and Tate had been my reasons for always returning. How would I leave here tomorrow morning knowing that I wouldn't be back for a long time, even longer than the tour had been? I had to take the time away, because these last two days taught me that being around Tate while knowing he didn't want to give us a shot was impossible for me.

His presumptions or hopes about us getting back to who we were before I left for the tour didn't take into account where I stood. It was a grueling task to be in his presence, knowing there was no hope, that we stood no chance.

If nothing else, I could be grateful for this. For being held in his arms while we danced together. I looked at it as the only parting gift I might receive from him, whether he intended for it to be that way or not.

Because even if I couldn't convince him to give me one night, at least I'd have this. At least he'd held me close to him, and I could walk away with one positive memory.

The song we'd been dancing to was nearing its end, bringing, if my instincts were correct, the slow set to a close.

Time to put my plan into action.

"So, did you mean it?" I asked.

"Mean what?"

"When you said you missed me, did you mean it?"

His eyes searched my face in a way that made me feel like he was trying to memorize it. He'd been doing that a lot between our conversation last night and this dance tonight. "Tremendously."

I curled the fingers of one hand around the back of his neck. "Will you prove it to me?"

Curiosity got the best of him. "How can I do that?"

The slow song ended, and Tate's body stopped with it as the next song's upbeat tempo filtered through the speakers. "Dance with me."

His thick brows shot up. "Pardon?"

"Show me how much you missed me. Stay here on the dance floor with me."

Tate grew concerned. I expected nothing less. He might have been trying to play it cool when he first walked up and asked me to dance, but a slow dance was so much different than this, especially for a man like Tate.

"Uh, I'm not sure I?—"

"Please," I begged, bringing my body even closer as I moved to the music. His hands were on my hips, his eyes locked on mine, and the tension in his body was unmistakable. "I'll do all the work."

"Won't I look like a fool if I just stand here doing nothing while you dance?"

I raised a curious brow, one half of my mouth quirking. "Didn't you say you were positive I was the best dancer in this ballroom?"

"Yes."

"Did you mean that?"

"Absolutely."

My smile grew. "Then trust me and have confidence I know what I'm doing. I'll make you look not like a fool, but like you're the luckiest guy in this room."

There was an edge of uncertainty and worry in his stare, even if there was a hint of desire swirling in his eyes. Tate was totally out of his element here. His body was stiff, his muscles rigid. I continued to move in front of him, sliding my hands down his arms and shifting the placement of his hands on my body. I wanted to focus on the way it felt as his fingers pressed in just a bit deeper, but I was too focused on my task of convincing him, of making him let go of the hold he had on himself.

He wrestled with what to do, but eventually, he asked, "What should I do?"

Why did it feel like he'd given me the world and broken my heart with that one question? That he was willing to go outside of his comfort zone and give me this meant everything. But I couldn't help wondering why he had been so unwilling all these years. What made today different? I hadn't shared my plans about where my life was heading after I finished on the tour, so nobody could have leaked that information to him. Did he suspect something?

I could have easily spent the rest of the evening analyzing it, but I quickly decided against it. This was my one chance. I refused to ruin or waste it.

Leaning close, I brought my mouth to his ear and whispered, "Let me lead."

He twisted his neck slightly, his mouth just inches from mine. It killed me not to take advantage of the proximity and kiss him. As bold as I was, I wouldn't be the one to make that move.

I wanted it to come from him. I needed Tate to be the one to take the lead on that. And I'd do everything in my power to make him see that he wanted this as much as I did.

Determined to make and leave a lasting impression, I smiled and said, "Keep your hands on my body and move with me."

His fingertips bit into my flesh, a silent confirmation he'd heard my instructions. With that in hand, I executed the rest of the plan.

I danced.

I danced and danced like I'd never done it before.

I danced like Tate and I were the only two people in the room, like the rest of the world had faded away.

From one song to the next, I didn't stop. And Tate, for all the nerves and discomfort he might have felt being in this moment, did precisely as I said. He kept his hands on my body, and he moved with me.

It wasn't perfect at the start, his mind clearly making it difficult for him to loosen up. But by about halfway through the second song, things took a turn. He moved with a bit more ease, and his hands floated along my sides to my hips, and around my waist effortlessly.

When I noticed him getting just a bit more comfortable with where we were and what we were doing several songs later, I took things up a notch. I spun myself around, my ass dangerously close to his groin.

Tate's hands were on my hips, and whether concerned I'd gotten too far away or primal instinct taking over, I didn't know, but he tugged me back toward him.

That's when I knew I'd succeeded. Because not only had he done something to take charge and get what he wanted, but I could also feel his arousal straining against the material separating our bodies. I dropped my head back against his shoulder, twisted my neck to look up at him, and saw the heat and desire burning in his stare.

Kiss me.

My silent plea went unanswered.

I arched my back, pressing my ass firmly against him and making it clear I liked what I felt pushing back against me. Despite the music, I could feel the rumble of his groan in his chest as it vibrated against my back.

That's it. Give in to this.

When I spun myself around again, I didn't have a chance to make any moves on my own. Tate plastered my body against his, and I swore I could feel his heart beating against mine.

With a flutter in my belly and my own rapidly beating heart, I smiled confidently. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely." His voice was a low rumble, the sound reverberating through my body.

"Do you know," I started, sliding my palms over his shoulders, toward his neck, and along the very base of his skull. "If you can do one thing for me, your night is bound to get even better? And that would mean everything to me."

"What is it?"

"As I'm sure you're aware, I'm staying here in the hotel tonight. Although I'm enjoying myself on the dance floor, I'm looking for more fun. So, I'm going to head up to my room now, and I'm hoping you'll follow me there."

His body stilled, his eyes blinking slowly as though he wasn't sure he'd heard me correctly. "Ava?—"

"I want just one night, Tate," I said, cutting him off. Between the look on his face and the tension I could feel back in his body, I could tell where this was heading. I needed to stop him from turning me down before he heard the full truth about what I was willing to do. If I gave him the chance to decline my offer before I got it out, I'd bottle myself right back up. I had to tell him or live to regret it a second time. "One night. That's all I'm asking. Please give me that, and I promise you, I'll never ask you for another thing."

He grimaced, a look I'd seen more than once in the last two days, but never before last night. The heavy silence stretched between us. His forehead wrinkled, his head tilting to one side. The battle he was waging inside was present in every feature.

Please, please, please, give this to us, I pleaded with my stare.

Tate swallowed hard, and I knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say. "Ava, I think we should?—"

"No." He jerked his chin back at the harshness in my tone. "No, Tate. I don't want to talk or hear excuses or reasons why you don't think this should happen. I want this. And I think you want this, too. Not everything needs to be discussed or planned. Sometimes, you need to just go with what you feel." I paused, swallowing past the tightening in my throat at the thought he'd could boil this down to some kind of nonsense that could be sorted out through logical discussion or spreadsheets. That's not how love worked. Tamping down the worry, needing to push forward, I continued, "All I'm asking for is one night. Either you can give it to me or not. It's up to you. I'm going to walk away now and head up to my room. I figure, being a Westwood, you can figure out what room that is and get yourself a key to let yourself into my room, if you choose. Do what you want, do whatever feels right. But regardless of what you decide, I need you to understand that this is it. I won't ask or offer ever again."

With my heart pounding wildly, I gave myself just one more beat to take in his handsome face. It was bound to be the last time I'd ever see him for a very long time. At least until I knew I could look at him again and not have it hurt so badly.

Unsure I'd gotten enough of him, but realizing I couldn't stay like this forever, I stepped out of his hold and walked away.

And with each step I took away from Tate and out of the ballroom, closing the distance between myself and my room in his family's hotel, I felt myself on the verge of breaking.

To him, I might have seemed like the picture-perfect image of confidence and strength, but inside, I was a mess.

My palms began to sweat as I rode the elevator up to my floor. My throat was dry as I stepped off and walked down the hall to my room. And the lightness I felt in my stomach earlier when he'd agreed to dance with me was replaced by a heaviness I couldn't seem to shake.

Wanting to cling to any shred of hope, I went about setting the perfect scene. I stripped out of my dress, freshened myself up, and slipped into nothing but a silk nightie that just barely covered the important bits.

I'd never done this before, but I wanted to do this with him. Even if I knew I wouldn't be back any time soon, I still wanted to give him this. Because at least if I had this with him, I'd have a tiny shred of evidence of what it was like. I'd know, for the first time in my life, what real love should feel like. Maybe Tate didn't love me back the way I loved him, but I didn't doubt he felt something for me. And that would be enough for me.

Minutes passed, and as the time ticked by without hearing the click of the lock on the door, I had to face the harsh reality—Tate wasn't going to show.