“In your wildest dreams, Roth.” I sound breathless. I am breathless. I pry my wrist free of his hold. “Look, I like being with you, so what? And maybe you drop my defenses, so what? I got drunk and said some things at the beach house. That’s what this is coming from, right? It’s no big deal.”
He leans back and spreads out his arms, and his dimple is still showing even when his eyes swirl like storms. “It’s a big deal to me.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I straighten in my seat and tug down his shirt primly. Nervously.
“Alright then, it’s no big deal.” He smirks, cants his head and links his hands behind his head, looking at me as he waits for a reaction.
I exhale. “You told me yourself you had nothing to offer me. It’s taken me a while to see you were right, Tahoe.”
Ever so slowly, he lowers his arms back to rest his elbows on his knees and leans forward. He clenches his jaw in frustration, his eyes losing their shine. God, they’re almost black, they’re so dark and stormy.
He looks at me, all of his energy muted, as if he’s coiling it all within himself for control. “You’re not yourself when you’re with him, Regina. The girl right here with me now,” he runs his eyes over me with a slow, meaningful nod, “the girl with me, is the Regina I know. The girl I see with Davis is a shadow of her. You can do so much better than that motherfucker and you know it.”
All the confusions about my relationship with Trent rise to the forefront, and I hate him for bringing them here.
“He’s good, Tahoe,” I say lamely.
“Is he good, Regina?” He raises his brows, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear that beneath the playful, devilish glint in his eyes, there’s a jealous fire brewing there too. “Do you give your boyfriend your panties too?”
“No.” I bristle at the reminder and poke his chest angrily. “By the way, I want those back.”
“That would be a no as well.” He catches my finger, caresses it between his thumb and forefinger before I pry it free.
I fold my finger back into my palm; it burns a little. “Why not?”
“’Cause I like the way they look,” he says with a shameless glint in his eye, “I like the way they smell, and I like the way they feel between my fingers.”
The color rises up my cheeks and neck and body.
Heat floods between my legs.
My heart feels like a volcano, pumping nothing but lava into my veins.
“I don’t think you love him,” he continues. “You’re not happy with him. It’s like you’re forcing yourself to be whatever you think he wants you to be. If he’s with you, he should want you, just you, period.” He glares in confusion and frustration and anger on my behalf. “Baby,” he exclaims, shaking his head in bewilderment, “why would any woman want to be anything else when they are you, huh?” He grabs my face and looks into my eyes, frustrated. “Huh, Gina?” he demands, searching my face.
His eyes bore into me.
His jaw is clenched so tight I think he’ll break his molars.
“What if that motherfucker is the best I can do?” I challenge back, just a breath.
He laughs softly and caresses his thumbs over my cheekbones before releasing me.
He falls back on the seat, shaking his head.
“That’s not true, you can do so much better,” he softly assures. He reaches out and touches my hair, gently tweaks my nose, and leans over. He sniffs me as he says, “You’re gorgeous, girl. You’re authentic. You smell like heaven.” He eases back, his smile so honest and adorable. “Your presence is like a sparkling firework that never goes out. You bake pie. And your smile is an absolute addiction.”
Scoffing, I nudge him to try to hide my blush. “You’re a jackass! Come on.”
He chuckles, still smiling as he swears, “Regina, this is no joking matter.” He nudges me back. “I love that smile of yours. Show me that smile of yours.” He ducks closer and peers into my face.
I raise my chin and fake a flat, hard smile.
He frowns instantly. “Yeah, um, a little less purse of the lips.” His thumbs gently force my lips to curl upward. “There,” he murmurs, raising his playful eyes to mine.
I feel his thumb remain on the corner of my lips for a second.
I see his smile fade just a fraction as our stares hold.
And all I can think of right now is that I want his lips. I want his hands all over me. Under his shirt that I’m wearing. Between my legs and inside of me.
We stare at each other, and he looks at my mouth like it is all that exists for him right now.
My heart starts pounding.
I’m scared.
His stare is frightening—it’s so blue, so clear, so expectant. So fucking hungry, this guy would eat me up alive and leave no bones to bury.
Slowly…his thumb brushes my lips, removing a little of my lipstick.
My heart almost leaps out of my chest and toward him when I realize he wants my mouth. He wants my mouth bare—with nothing but me.
But I’m so scared I’m trembling. I think of Trent. Of us, on this break.
Finally there’s a good guy who likes me, who might love me. And here is this guy who can have everything he wants and who can take it all away. Who is already such a threat between me and Trent, between me and any other guy.
I cannot get on the Tahoe rollercoaster. Maybe before, when it would be a one-night stand, it was an option.