His eyes glittered when his gaze slammed into hers. “Stalling what, Samantha?”
“Stalling us,” she declared with exasperation. “I mean, I get it. Last night, you played the gentleman card and put on the brakes because you thought I was too vulnerable after everything that happened. You thought I might have second thoughts in the bright light of day. Fine. Good. But here I am, standing in front of you, telling you I didn’t have any second thoughts. So if you would kindly stop treating me like a plague carrier and pick up where we left off, I’d really, really appreciate it.”
He shook his head and looked at the sky. It made his Adam’s apple bulge in his tan neck. She wanted to lick it. Or bite it. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? All those reasons I had last night apply again tonight. You were whacked over the head and kidnapped off the street. You might pretend it’s nothing, that it didn’t affect you, but I know it did. And now you’ve had a little to drink. So maybe you’re not in the right frame of mind to—”
“Bullshit!” she spat out, feeling heat rush into her face.
Thankfully, she wasn’t alone in her affliction. A deep flush stained Ozzie’s cheekbones when he blinked at her. “Excuse me?”
“That’s complete and utter bullshit.” And then she decided, What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You’re scared shitless you’ll hurt me when this thing between us reaches its inevitable conclusion. So you’re trying to stop it from starting in the first place.”
His face shuttered. “Is there…” He stopped and swallowed. “Is there an inevitable conclusion?”
“Oh, come on, Ozzie,” she scoffed, ignoring the burning pain that ignited behind her breastbone. “I know your game. You’re a renowned playboy, Don Juan brought to life. So let’s make a deal, shall we? I won’t do you the disservice of pretending you’re something you’re not, if you promise you won’t do me the disservice of thinking I don’t know my own mind.” Now that she was on a roll, she couldn’t stop. “I like you. I respect you. I have fun with you. But more importantly, right now, I want you. And whether that’s for one night or two nights or ten nights is up for discussion. But I don’t, not for one minute, think this thing can last forever.”
She winced. That was the closest she’d ever come to lying to him.
Although the rational part of her didn’t think they would make it to the altar, swearing ’til death do us part, the irrational side of her, the romantic side, the side that had already fallen a little in love with him, wanted exactly that. It was the same irrational, romantic, lovesick side of her that held out hope that if she could only get him into bed, if she could only show him that besides friendship and laughs, they could share fiery-hot passion, he’d change his ways and suddenly settle down. He’d realize she was…the one.
Seriously, Sammie? That shit only happens in sappy rom-coms and cheesy romances.
She violently quashed the voice of dissent in her head. Okay, so yes, it was insanity. She was insane. But that’s what falling in love was, right? A socially acceptable form of insanity?
His face gave her zero clues to what he was thinking. So she was left with no recourse but to wait for him to tell her. One second stretched into ten. She could count the passing of time by the hard thud of her heart. Ten seconds quickly became fifteen. The breath had strangled in her lungs, and low oxygen made her brain buzz. When twenty seconds rolled by, she lost it. Patience had never been one of her virtues, but it was particularly hard to come by when her silly heart and all her far-fetched hopes were on the line.
“Ugh.” She blew out a breath. “That’s it. Time’s up.”
Stuffing the blanket under one arm, she grabbed his hand and dragged him toward an outbuilding he had shown her on the tour he had given her months ago. It housed a small gym. And since everyone in the compound was now inside the warehouse, the space promised to give her precisely what she needed.
Privacy!
*
Ozzie’s whole life, he had given his love away.
First to the endless string of women who had come through his father’s house, though none had ever stuck, because none had ever been his mother. Then to the procession of women in his own life. But they had never stuck, because they all thought he was the good-time guy. The man they liked for a laugh and a sweaty roll in the hay. Not the one they brought home to their parents.
He had accepted it. Expected it, even. Until now. Until Samantha…
He didn’t want his time with her to be just another wild story to add to his tally of wild stories. She was different. They were different. Or so he had thought.
He was a walking zombie, numbly following where she led. It wasn’t until the door slammed shut on the gym and the smell of heavily bleached towels tunneled up his nose that he realized where she’d taken him.
“So how about it?” She hit the light switch.
He blinked against the glow of the fluorescent bulbs to find her standing directly in front of him, hands on hips, dark eyes glinting.
He knew exactly to which “it” she was referring. The it. As in doing it. Because he was nothing but the good-time guy, good for it and not much else.
A wave of hurt…of anger crashed over him, washing away all those lovely lunch dates and walks through the park, washing away all his good intentions and self-preservation.
Last night, he’d convinced himself that if he kept their relationship platonic, she would stick around. That he could keep his secrets and keep her.
So much for that.
Her words in the courtyard proved sticking around wasn’t something she had ever considered. Acid churned in his stomach, and he did something he had never done before. He was cruel to someone he cared about.
“Sweetheart,” he snarled like the wounded animal he was, “if you’re hurting for it that badly, I’ll gladly throw you a bone.”
Her lashes fluttered. He saw the confusion and shock on her face. But he didn’t allow either of them time to dwell on what a horrendous ass he’d just made of himself. Instead, he wrapped a hand around her arm and spun her until her back pressed flat against the door.
The blanket that had been under her arm fell to the floor. The R & B still playing outside drifted in through the thin walls. Treadmills and weight benches were at his back. But the only thing in front of him was Samantha. Smart, sexy, stubborn Samantha. The woman who challenged him and teased him and had made him hope that perhaps there was still a little of the old Ozzie left beneath all the uncertainty and self-pity and remorse.
The same woman who had utterly crushed him with a few careless words…