“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” He juts his chin toward me. “How is it possible that you’re single?”
I choke on my wine and have a hard time clearing my throat. Eventually, I manage it, but he’s not going to let me off the hook. He’s still sitting there, calm and composed, waiting for my reply.
I shrug and try to play off his question while I pace back and forth in front of the window. “Oh, who knows? Maybe I haven’t been able to find a guy who’s worth bothering with. I have a busy schedule, and the last few blokes I’ve been with seemed to enjoy playing games more than they enjoyed being with me. It was always a struggle to figure out who was going to text who first. Who was going to make the first move? Who was stringing the other along? It gets old.”
I look away before he answers. “I feel the same way, except my games involve slightly higher stakes. Ever since I started to shine on the football field, I’ve had to wonder what women really want from me. Some like the limelight. Some like the notoriety of dating someone they feel is important. I doubt I’ve had a woman love me for me in a very long time.”
His words sit heavy in my chest, and I peer over at him with a frown.
“Total idiots, the whole lot of them.”
He smiles and shrugs, refocusing his attention on his wine glass. “On top of all that, I don’t have all the time in the world to devote to relationships. It’s not worth it to try to reconfigure my schedule for someone I’m not really interested in.”
“Oh.”
He seems to have left off the part that’s most important.
That he’s willing to do that for me means he is interested in me. Very much so.
He nods his chin toward me. “Are you all the way over there for a reason?”
I look down at my stockinged feet on the smooth wood floor and wiggle my toes. I’m as far from him as I can be without having my back pinned to the windows.
“Yes. A few reasons, actually.”
His brow quirks, asking me to provide them.
“Well first, I don’t trust myself with red wine on that fancy sofa.”
“I don’t care about the sofa.”
I gulp.
“And also…” I let my finger drag around the rim of my glass, deciding to be painfully honest since we’ve both agreed we’re tired of games. “I wouldn’t mind continuing what we were doing in the kitchen, but I like this talking too, getting to know you and all that. So maybe keeping myself across the room is a good idea.”
“I can keep my hands to myself if you come and sit by me.”
Bollocks. That’s on par with a lion sitting right beside a nice juicy steak and swearing it’s a vegetarian. I can practically see him licking his chops.
He must sense my doubt because he pats the cushion beside him. “I’ll prove it.”
Oh, I’ll just bet.
I make a big show of crossing the room toward him, holding my wine gently so it doesn’t splash over the rim and onto the rug. Then I perch delicately on the edge of the sofa cushion beside him. It’s not close enough for his liking, apparently, because he laughs and tugs me back, closer to him. My dress gets hiked up a little bit, but I’m too scared to adjust it because I think it’ll draw his attention and then this whole farce will end.
“Relax,” he insists, and I puff out a breath of air as if to say, Not bloody likely!
I suppose I have to try at least. I reach my feet out to attempt to prop them up on the coffee table, but it’s too far away. My toes wiggle in my stockings, and he laughs and leans forward to drag it closer then props his feet up beside mine. There. Now we’re sitting side by side, not touching, not really, but desperately wanting to. It’s obvious. It’s in the air somehow, permeating the space between us. I swear the atmosphere is crackling like there’s lightning in here, not just out there in the storm.
It’s then that I notice how hard the rain is coming down now. It’s taunting me, as if to say, Candace, you aren’t going anywhere, which means Logan is feeling mighty confident.
He moves his wine to his opposite hand and sets his free hand right between us, palm up. I stare down at it like it might bite me.
He waggles his fingers tauntingly, and I can’t help but laugh.
Still, I don’t give in to the urge to touch him. Instead, I gulp my wine and then ask him, “Just how long do you plan on keeping me here? What if it rains all night?”
“Let’s just call it then. I think you should stay. It’s easier. You can sleep here then Pat can drive you to your apartment in the morning so you can get your things before work.”
“Sleep here? Ha! You’re rather sure of yourself. A ham sandwich and one glass of wine and now suddenly it’s knickers off for a sleepover?”
He smiles, a cocky little grin that does my head in. “I’ll sleep out here.” He points to the sofa cushion. “You can have my bed.”
I roll my eyes. “No one will sleep on the sofa. There’re fifty-some odd beds in this place. I’ll just take a guest room…if I stay.”
“When you stay.”
“I’ll need to phone my flatmates. They’re probably worried about me.”
He pushes off the sofa, walks into the kitchen, and strolls back out with my mobile from my purse. He hands it to me as he sits back down, a few inches closer to me this time.
Right. Well. He’s quite pushy, isn’t he?
I phone Yasmine because she generally has her mobile on her more than Kat does. She answers quickly and there’s a good bit of moaning in the background, so much so that I’m worried I’ve caught her in the middle of a shagging session with some bloke.
“What is it?” she huffs, annoyed. “I’ve just found the best porn and you’re ruining the best part. The lad’s got her sort of hoisted off the ground and—”
Logan hears this, of course, because we’re sitting so close together. Color blooms down my chest, and I clear my throat to quickly cut her off.
“Right! Well, maybe pause it so you can hear me over all the…noise. I’m only phoning to let you know I’m staying round at Logan’s tonight.”
“You two are banging already? Have you totally forgotten what I said about playing hard to get?”
Logan pretends to be focused on his wine, though by the cheeky smile he’s wearing, I know he’s heard every word. Best to cut this convo short, I see. “Right well, ta-ta for now! See you in the morning!”
Then I hang up, toss my mobile on the empty cushion to my left, and drop my head back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.
“Remind me to toss them out and find new flatmates first thing tomorrow morning. I swear they’ll do my head in.”
“I like them.”
I let my head roll to the side so I can face him. He picks his arm up so he can drop it on the back of the couch behind me, and then he brushes aside some of my hair so he doesn’t accidentally tug it. He does it so reverently I can’t help myself from leaning over and kissing him again. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but he won’t let me go now that I’ve initiated it. Our mouths taste like wine, and he needs no prodding to take the kiss further. His mouth slants over mine, deepening the kiss. My mouth opens and his tongue touches mine, eliciting a soft moan from me. I’ve vaguely aware of him setting his wine glass on the coffee table then reaching for mine as well as we kiss and reach for each other. Once that’s done, his hands are on my hips, shifting me so I can sit on top of him. I love how big he feels underneath me, how much space his body takes up. I’ve been with some blokes who’re skinny little things, so thin I’m worried I’ll hurt them if I’m too aggressive. Logan can handle anything I want to do. He can take my full weight, and in fact, it’s like he relishes the feel of me on top of him, straddling his hips, kissing him senseless. His hands tangle in my hair, keeping me on him, and I kiss him until my lips feel like they might bruise.