Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)

I peered down at it. “They disappear quick, too.”


“No comment.” He kissed the side of my head and sat back down. “What time is the rehearsal dinner?”

“Six-thirty. Eating at seven. So, naturally, I have to be there at six.” I removed my sandwich, cut it, and joined West at the island. “Allie is going to be losing her shit right about now, so the first thing I'll do is hand her a shot of vodka to deal with her constantly feuding relatives, and then I will have one myself to cope with the horror of sitting by my mother all night.”

“If Allie's freaking out, shouldn't you be with her right now?”

I snapped my gaze up to him, chewing slowly, and shook my head.

He frowned. “Call her at least?”

“You don't call Allie when she's in a freak out. You wait for her to call you, or she'll say two works: Fuck off.”

“Really? But she is getting married.”

“Okay, no offense, but you're starting to sound like my mother and I don't know if I like you anymore.”

He laughed, leaning forward. “I'm sorry. I've only been to two weddings, and they were the cousins who took after my grandfather, so you can imagine just how eventful they were.”

I didn't want to think about that. Quite frankly, the thought of thinking about it was giving me a headache. Instead, I shook my head and finished my sandwich. “Honestly, Allie is just about the calmest person I know until the day before a big, life-changing thing happens. The fact most of her family has flown in today, coupled with the fact her dad's sister hates her mom, her grandmas have never gotten along, and her first cousin once screwed Joe’s brother at an orgy... Hell, I should probably call the restaurant and ask them to pack more vodka.”

“Wow. That's... crazy.”

“Right? It almost makes the relationship I have with my mom look normal.” I licked my fingers and pushed the plate to the side.

West tilted his head, looking at me contemplatively. “What's up with that? You and your mom. Every time you talk you look like she's going to give you a heart attack.”

I slowly nodded. “Something like that.” I paused, then leaned forward and rested my chin in my hands. “Honestly, we just don't get along well. We never really have. She has a very... traditional... view of women and relationships and careers. It's not one I share, so we butt heads about my job all the time.”

“Isn't she proud of you?”

“I think so, in her own way, but she'd be prouder if I allowed my cervix to expand ten centimeters bigger than it should be to push out a watermelon attached to a body with a mad set of lungs.”

“And there goes any desires I may ever have had of having babies with you any time in the next five years.”

“You thought about having babies with me?” I froze. “Five years?”

“No. Tell your inner commitment-phobe to pipe down, angel.” His eyes twinkled. “I was just saying.”

I relaxed with a whooshing exhale. “Okay, good.”

“You're going to have to stop getting crazy every time I mention something that'll last longer than your period.”

I pursed my lips. “I wasn't crazy. I'm not getting crazy. It was just very random and it shocked me a little.”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparking with amusement. I knew that look—he was thinking I was cute, and I didn't want him to think I was cute, so all it did was make me pout. Which, in hindsight, probably didn't help my case.

“Mia.” He got up and walked around the island. His hands were warm as they grabbed mine, his fingers intertwining with mine to pull me up. He pinned me against the island, and I pushed up on my tiptoes to perch on the edge of it, but he let go of my hands and pushed my back, slipping himself between my legs.

Our eyes met, and I blinked up at him. “What?”

“Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “I do, but I'm afraid.”

“I know you are, but you need to trust me.” He swept his thumb across my forehead, pushing hair from my eyes. “There's no way this will work if you don't. It's okay to be afraid, but it's not okay to not believe we can do this—and don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes, Mia. You don't believe we can make this work.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Unlike before, I didn't have a reason.

I had nothing.

“I'm afraid too, but no matter how much I want you, I can't put myself in a relationship that is more likely to fuck up than be successful.” He cupped my chin gently and titled my head back. “I think you need some time alone, so it's probably best if I don't go with you to dinner tonight. I'll book into a hotel tonight and see you at the church tomorrow. Okay?”

Was he right? Did I need to be alone?

But what if I was alone and my fear took over and made a choice I wouldn't ordinarily have?