Cuff Me(72)

Jill slapped her hands over her eyes and groaned. “Oh my God. When you say it like that, I sound like such… such…”

“A hussy?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, even though his voice was teasing. “I feel icky. Like a man-eater who jumps from one man’s bed to the next. Although you should know, it had been awhile with—”

He laid a finger over her lips. “I don’t want to know. Not about that.”

“So what do you want to know?”

He looked down at her then, his expression hesitant and Jill had a pretty good idea why. Communicating with their bodies was one thing—gasps and moans and really good sex… well that was easy, in a way.

But this—the emotional stuff—was harder. Especially for a man like Vincent.

And not particularly easy for her either. She knew how people saw her. As an open, heart-on-her-sleeve kind of woman.

And she sort of was.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t every bit as afraid of heartache as other people.

Throwing her love—if it had even been that—at Tom had been easy. He’d been open and wanting to receive it. And even had he rejected it, Jill supposed she’d always known on some level that getting rejected by Tom wouldn’t crush her.

She dropped her gaze to Vincent’s Adam’s apple.

Throwing something as powerful as love at Vincent…

That was risky. Scary.

She knew that he’d never intentionally hurt her, but that didn’t change the fact that Vincent Moretti was perhaps the only man on earth who could crush her.

Jill returned her eyes to his gaze, found him watching her.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When it ended… you could have…” He swallowed nervously. “It would have meant a lot to know.”

Jill’s heart squeezed at the admission, and guilt racked through her. “I was scared.”

He frowned. “About what?”

She took a deep breath, wondering how much to tell him. She started to look away, but his palm cupped her face. Brought it around to face him. “Jill.”

“There were two parts to it,” she said slowly. “The first was about me… I wanted to be damn sure that you weren’t just a rebound. I wanted time to think before, well… this. And the second was about you. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you’d only wanted what you couldn’t have.”

His gaze darkened. “Explain.”

“I’ve been right in front of you for six years,” she said softly. “Right there, this whole damn time. But it wasn’t until after I got serious—really serious—about someone else that you seemed to want me back.”

He was silent for several moments, then dipped his head with a soft oath before he rolled off of her so they were lying on their backs, side-by-side.

Vincent lifted a hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Here’s the thing, Henley… if I tell you the truth… you’ll have no reason to believe me.”

“Try me,” she said, rolling onto her side and looking down at him.

He dropped his hand and met her eyes. “When you were gone for three months, I was… I felt…”

Vin blew out a breath, then tried again. “That day you got back from your mom’s, I was going to ask you out. On a date.”

Her jaw dropped, and he rolled over so they were face-to-face. “I swear to God, Henley, my wanting you has nothing to do with you getting engaged to Tom. It took me a while, yes. It took me far too damn long to realize that I wanted to be more than your partner, but I did realize it.”

She reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand. “And then I came back… engaged.”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“What about now?” she asked softly. “Do you still want to ask me on a date?”

“I do, but—”

Her heart dropped.

“I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. I don’t… I don’t know that I can be what you need. Or want.”

“Well what can you be?” She forced her voice to stay light. To keep from pushing him too hard in a direction she wasn’t sure either of them wanted or knew how to handle.

His gaze turned warm as his hand moved forward, settling on her bare waist. “Well, for starters, I can be your partner.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked as his hand moved down slightly, resting on the curve of her hip before moving back up again. “Is that all?”

He moved closer, his mouth settling into the hollow of her throat, and she sighed. “I can also be a decent friend—beat up your fiancé when he goes to dinner with other women, things like that?”

His lips moved over her neck and she arched toward him even as she let out a little laugh. “I guess I could use a friend.”

“What about a lover?”

“Nah,” she said flippantly. “I’m good.”

Vincent’s hand moved up, covering her breast. His thumb drifted over a nipple and she moaned.

“You’re sure?”

“Mmm hmm,” she managed.

Vincent moved down her body until his mouth was even with her chest, his thumb continuing to toy with her before he let his hand fall away, so she felt only his warm breath.