I slide the chain across and open the door.
Lachlan is standing there. In a fucking suit and tie. Hair slicked back, just enough stubble on that angular jaw. Perma-frown. Towering over me like some well-dressed god.
Oh my god. I am so doomed.
“Just come from a wedding?” I attempt a joke. My mouth is drier than a desert.
“Can I come in?” he asks, his shoulders hunched up. “Please?”
Be cool, be cool.
“Sure,” I say, opening the door wider with a shrug, pretending I’m not hurt, not mad, and definitely not wearing just his t-shirt.
He walks past me and all I want to do is breathe in his scent. Well, that’s not all I want to do.
I shut the door behind him, resting my forehead briefly on it and gathering courage before turning around to face him.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring right at me. Jesus. He’s so beautiful to look at it almost hurts. It does hurt.
“I need to explain something.”
I cross my arms. “What?”
“I know what Stephanie told you,” he says. “About me and Justine.”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Oh well, that’s cool.”
His frown deepens. “I heard you were upset.”
I give him a tight smile. “I don’t get upset,” I tell him and walk over to the kitchen to busy myself with something.
“Yes, you do,” he says, eyes following me. “I’ve seen you get upset. I know your voice when you’re upset.”
I want to challenge him, to tell him that he doesn’t know me at all. But I don’t want that. I want him to know me. I want him to think he does.
“And so I’m upset now?” I say. “Why?”
He chews on his lower lip for a second and finally looks away. “Because. You want me.”
I can’t help but let out a shocked laugh. Obviously it’s true, but I can’t believe he has the audacity to just say it so bluntly.
His eyes slide to me again, feverish and hard. “Don’t you?”
Suddenly it’s not so funny anymore. I lean against the counter, my hands gripping the edge while my mind tries to think of what to say, how to possibly answer that. Finally I tell the truth. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “So?”
“So,” he says, voice low, almost delicate, “last night was something I’ve needed…for a long time. It may have been just a walk in the park and a kiss to you, love, but to me…it was far more. And I want to know if it was more to you.”
I can only stare back at him, locked in the intensity of his gaze. He’s looking at me like he’s peeling back the layers, determined to get to the core.
My throat is dry and my heart pounds with excitement and anxiety. What is he doing? What am I doing? There is so much space between us, and I don’t know how to bridge the gap or if I want him to, because if it happens it’s going to be so much more than I can handle.
“You’re leaving on Sunday,” I tell him. “That’s less than a week.”
“So?” he says. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I cock my head. “It means…well, what can happen between now and then?”
“I can fuck your brains out,” he says gruffly. “That’s what can happen.”
Holy shit.
Did he seriously just say he could fuck my brains out? I stare at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded and turned on in an instant. It’s hard to swallow. It’s hard to think. “Uh…”
“But before I do,” he says, starting to loosen his tie. He takes a step forward. Oh god. “I need you to know that tonight I was helping Bram. Justine was never anything other than a favor, and no, I didn’t fuck her. Not even close. Whatever it was though, it’s done. And for the next week, the only thing on my radar is you.” He takes another step toward me, pulling off his tie and tossing it at my feet. “On this counter, in your bed, against the wall. Whatever way I can.”