The Vibrant Years(65)

“What a piece of work,” Cullie said, anger burning her throat. What was wrong with people?

The brown of his eyes turned almost black, her anger reflected in them as something else. Another moment vibrated between their bodies. Breath caught in her lungs as she waited for him to lean into her again. The potential kiss that had just suffused the air between them lingered like a heady scent.

The only time Cullie had ever held herself away from a man was with Steve, because he’d been married.

Rohan pulled away, again. This time backing up a few steps.

Maybe it was a good thing. To not do this. To think it through. Cullie had never thought a kiss through. She’d never been afraid of losing a friendship. This tenuous connection was already pushing into precious territory. She’d never been friends with someone she’d slept with.

“That’s something we have in common,” she said as lightly as she could. “We both have terrible judgment in relationships.”

Dimples dipped into his cheeks, the barest smile, but the relief of taking the hurt from his eyes was a head rush.

“Also, see, I was right. Relationships do cause misery.” God, he’d looked miserable a second ago.

He laughed at that. “Heaven help anyone who’s trying to convince you that you’re wrong, Cullie,” he said, voice laced with too many things. “Also, see, you don’t actually believe in the app. So I was right too. How will you design something you don’t believe in?”

She dropped onto the couch.

He dropped down next to her.

“I guess that’s what I’m trying to figure out. How to believe in it,” she said. “How can you still believe after that?” How did one betray someone over their grief? “Isn’t sticking around for the hard stuff the heart of it? Not one person I’ve been matched with has made me feel anything but terrified for the human race. Yesterday a guy told me his opinion matters more than mine because he’s a billionaire.”

She’d been matched with an entrepreneur, for obvious reasons. They’d gotten into a political debate about taxing businesses, and finally, when he couldn’t come up with an argument to change her mind, he’d told her that he was a billionaire, so he knew what he was talking about better than her.

Rohan started laughing so hard he choked, and she had to thump his back. “Did you not tell him you were the legendary Cullie Desai, the creator of Shloka?”

“You mean the unimpressive Cullie Desai, who’s hit the ripe old age of twenty-five with only one app to her name?”

He touched her cheek again, the pad of his thumb skimming her skin as though he couldn’t help but do it. “That’s not what I meant. If there’s one word to describe you, it’s impressive.” There it was again, the sincerity that made her want to slide closer to him.

But he pulled away again, and she got up and went to the desk and grabbed one of the notebooks.

He was at her side in a moment, taking it from her before she could open it and pressing it to his chest so possessively that the feelings that had been swinging wildly inside twisted together.

She reached for it again, but he stayed her hand with his. “Cullie, don’t.” His body was touching hers. The smell of him that had flooded through her like relief the first time they met swept through her. “Please.” The whisper landed on her hair, dislodging a lock.

“Why? What are you working on? Is it something salacious?”

He laughed. “You wish.” His filterless eyes filled with restlessness. “It’s the opposite of salacious.” He turned away from her.

Something about the set of his shoulders sent alarm ringing through her. She walked around him.

“Rohan, are you crying?”

He sniffed. “It’s my grandfather’s journal.” He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, storms raging inside. “It’s his account of a love affair from his youth. He gave it to me on the day of his death.” A tear slid down his cheek, and she wiped it, then stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around him.

He didn’t wrap his arms around her in return, but she felt the pain inside him, tried to soak it up.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t with your grandmother.” The muscled warmth of his chest was shockingly comforting. It might make her forget her prejudice against gym rats.

“No.”

She waited for more, but he said nothing and just stood there as though he wanted to put his arms around her but couldn’t. She took his hands and placed them around herself.

He pulled away. “God, Cullie, please. Please don’t make this—”

It should have been humiliating. It should have sliced her ego in half, but something else was going on here, and it surprised her how clearly she knew that.

Is this what you mean, Binji, when you said to be vulnerable?

“You don’t have to tell me. I understand your loyalty to your grandfather. I’m sorry I intruded. I would not break Binji’s confidence for anything. I would kill to protect her.”

Instead of easing him, her words seemed to make things worse. “It has to do with the documentary I’m working on. It’s too important. I can’t talk about it yet.” He stepped close again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. We’ve only known each other a few weeks. But I . . . I’ve never felt this easy, this comfortable, with anyone, ever. Our . . . we . . . I just want you to know that, okay?”