Sinful Longing

Prickles of worry tripped across her skin. What if he was still pissed? What if he’d come here to tell her he never wanted to see her again? And what the hell? Had that dumb pill made her forget that he’d been kind of mean to her?

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her chest, and gathered her strength. Whether he was mad or not, whether she was hurt or not, she needed to say her piece. She opened the door, ready to finally explain that she’d been bound by her ethics not to say a word.

He was faster. He locked eyes with her. “Hey, so I’m an asshole, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

The grin returned to her face, and she shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she said quickly, needing to reassure him. “Not at all. But do you want to come in?”

He nodded and walked inside. She shut the door behind him, and they stood in her tiny entryway. He wore cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt that revealed his strong biceps without being showy. A part of her wanted to run her hands along his arms, but that was not what this visit was about. There were things to be said. So many things. And though she was happy to see him, her heart still hurt from his messages, and from the weight of the secrets she’d had to keep.

“Colin,” she said, starting with her own mea culpa. “You have to know how sorry I am. If there were a way I could have told you, I would have. I desperately wanted to. It was so hard for me not to say anything. I hated keeping it from you. But I couldn’t do that to Marcus.”

“I know. I swear, I know,” he said, relief and frustration in his voice as he dragged one hand through his hair. “And I should have known better. I was so blindsided, and then a million times more shocked to learn you had been helping him. But instead of sitting down and talking to you to try to understand the situation, I just lashed out.” He stopped to take a quiet breath. “And that’s not the kind of person I want to be. My ex did that to me, and I don’t want to be that guy. That guy who sends those messages.”

“Then don’t be that guy,” she said matter-of-factly. She understood that he’d been knocked to his knees by news he couldn’t have prepared for, but she also wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of his anger. “Be the guy who gives me a chance to explain and work it out. And be the guy who treats me with respect even if you’re upset.”

“I will. I promise I will,” he said, his voice a plea for forgiveness. “That’s not how I want to treat you. I was just so stunned by everything that I stopped thinking.” He rocked lightly on his heels as Eddie Vedder sang on the stereo in the kitchen. “It was all so out of the blue. There I was, talking to Ryan about how he’s planning to propose to Sophie—”

A full dose of glee raced through her veins. “He’s going to propose?”

He smiled. “See? There I go again, just saying what’s on my mind. Don’t tell her, okay?”

She rubbed her hands together. “Ooh. Another secret. But this one is the good kind to keep.”

“So he’s telling me about the trip, and his plans, and his dog is jumping in the car, and, Elle…” He stopped to look her in the eyes, letting the enormity of the moment register. “My fucking half-brother appears, takes off a cape, and says ‘Ta da!’ It was beyond surreal. And he talked for a long time, and then he told me you’d been advising him. And boom.” He smashed one palm against the other. “It was like hitting a wall. I just didn’t know what to think, and I snapped back. I was too honest. Too direct. I should have filtered myself and taken some time to process this news. Instead, I processed it with you. Over a text message. And I just typed everything that came to mind, rather than talk to you.” He downshifted to a gentler tone, meeting her eyes and doing what she’d asked. “So talk to me.”

At last, she was free of the burden of the secret. “I just want you to try to understand that I didn’t want to keep this secret from you. But he asked for my confidence before he told me he was your brother, and I was torn apart knowing that. But it would have been so wrong for me to tell you.” She reached for him, running her fingers gently across the tanned skin of his arm, wanting contact.

“Wrong? Elle, that’s not what I—” Then he stopped and gestured to her thumb with the splint on it. “What happened?”

She shrugged it off. “Nothing. I crashed during the match.”

He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss onto the small splint. Her heart fluttered. Maybe this wasn’t the end of them.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Everyone is making a big deal of it. It was just a dislocated thumb, and evidently it’s relocated now,” she said with a small smirk as she wiggled her thumb. “It’s not like I broke a tibia crashing off a sheer rock wall or something. But it did hurt like hell yesterday. They even gave me some pain meds.” She gestured to the bottle on the coffee table. He followed her gaze, and she wondered if he was tempted. Perhaps she should have tucked them away. But then, as she searched his eyes looking for a sign of longing, she was glad to find none.

“Did they help you?” he asked, his tone one of concern for her.