“So, yeah, I said date. Because if you let me, I’m going to kiss you again, as much as I can.”
It’s a struggle to find my voice. “Neither of us is looking for casual. We don’t even live in the same city. I don’t date athletes. Or friends of my sister. Or—”
“Why don’t we start with what you do,” he cuts in, his gaze direct, firm. It lowers to my mouth before sliding back up to my eyes. “Do you want to kiss me again, Fiona?”
Why does he have to say my name that way? As if it’s a dare. And why is he so damn perceptive?
His eyes bore into me. “Did you think about me last night? In your bed?”
No one has ever been so blunt with me. Ever. It does my head in, giving me no place to hide.
“All I’m asking is for the truth,” he says, his big, strong body rock solid in his chair.
Licking my lips, I try to breathe. Truth? I can do truth. It’s not so hard. Right?
“Yes.”
One of his dark brows rises. “Yes to what?”
If I have to elaborate, I might expire on the spot. “Does it matter when the answer is yes?”
He smiles, and it’s like the dawn cresting over the sea. “When it comes to you, Fiona, the answer always matters. But I’ll take that as a yes to all of the above.”
The chair scrapes as he rises, and my heart threatens to pound right out of my chest. But he doesn’t approach me. No, the smug bastard just finishes off his coffee in one gulp and puts the mug in the dishwasher.
He glances at me over his shoulder before he goes. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Hello? What about everything that I said?”
He doesn’t blink. “Those are all fears. I respect that. But let’s take things as they come and see what happens. Okay?”
“Okay.” That’s all I manage. This guy makes my head spin. He’s just so reasonable. I don’t have any defense against it. Against him and his damn sexy self. Damn it.
“Good.” He gives me that smile once again. “Dress warmly. It’s cold out today.”
“You’re kind of bossy,” I call after him. “You know that?”
He stops and looks back at me. “Apparently only with you, Cherry.”
I don’t say another word, just watch his tight ass move beneath his jeans as he walks away.
“Well, fuck me,” I mutter. I’ve been played. Again.
* * *
Dex
It’s official: I’ve lost my fucking mind. After spending the night basically staring up at the ceiling, I’d decided to leave Fiona alone. Be polite. Retreat into my shell. A safe and solid plan.
One that crumbled like sun-dried turf the second I saw her sitting in the kitchen, the morning light glowing like a nimbus around her golden hair. She was so beautiful she made my heart hurt.
Sharing a cup of coffee with her, watching those lovely full lips of hers move as she made idle small talk with me was more than I could take.
I want Fiona.
Badly.
Enough to ignore certain fears and go after her. But I’m so out of my element that a tremor goes through my fingers as I run them through my hair and gather it up in a knot.
Frowning, I comb my beard and stare into the mirror. My beard is a part of me now. How everyone sees me. Hell, it’s why Fiona kissed me. And I have the urge to shave it off. Shave my hair off too. I honestly don’t even know what I’d see reflected back at me if I did.
The door opens, and Gray saunters in as if he owns the place. Which he does. But still.
“Knocking, Gray-Gray, is a valuable skill.”
“I’m too tired to knock.” He flops onto the armchair by the window and leans his head back with a groan.
“Shouldn’t you be satisfying your wife?”
“I satisfied the fuck out of her.” He drags a hand over his face. “And then she fell asleep.”
I snort, and he glares.
“Fell asleep on a wave of extreme post-coital bliss,” he assures before looking me over. “Going out, big guy?”
In truth, Gray is two inches taller than me. But he’s built for speed while I’m built for blocking, which means I carry more bulk muscle.
“I’m taking Fiona to the Japanese Garden.”