Guilty Needs(31)

But Bree couldn’t say it.

Fifteen years of fantasy stood next to her and even if she ended up getting her heart broken, at least she’d have something, right?

“You know, you’re confusing the hell out of me,” she said, keeping her tone light. Slipping her arm away from his, she reached down and unbuckled her shoes. Stepping out of them, she carried them over to the porch and laid them down, along with her purse. Then she turned to face him, her arms hanging loose at her sides, her heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.

“How?”

Bree shook her head. “You just are. Five weeks ago, I had no idea where you were, if you were ever going to come home. Then you’re here, but you’re not…not quite you. Grief is a bitch, I know. It does weird things to people…”

Her voice trailed off and she licked her lips. She lifted a hand futilely, as though she could pull the words from the air. But words were his thing. Not hers. “Then all of a sudden, you’re flirting with me, teasing me. You kiss me, tell me you want to sleep with me.”

She eyed him nervously. He stood mostly in shadow now, the moon at his back, throwing his features into darkness. She could make out the hungry glitter of his eyes but not much more than that. “So what is this? You trying yourself out on training wheels or something before you rejoin the land of the living?”

He snorted. “Shit, you don’t think much of me, do you, Bree?”

“Actually, I think the world of you.” You have absolutely no idea just how much I think of you. If you knew just how much I think of you, you’d probably take off running. “I just…” her voice trailed off and she sighed. “I don’t know what you want.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but she could all but hear him laying out his thoughts. Sometimes, it seemed this man spent way too much time thinking, and when he spent a lot of time thinking, she had to wonder what that meant for her. He paced toward her, not speaking until he was close, so close she could feel the heat of his body. “I want you.”

“But for what? For a night? For a few nights? You just need to take the edge off? What? I like knowing what I’m getting into and I can’t tell with you.”

He cupped a hand over the back of her neck, drawing her close until he could press his brow to hers. “I’ve been dreaming of you nearly every damn night for the past six months. I wake up half sick with guilt and feeling like the lowest life form in existence because of those dreams. Alyssa’s only been gone a year but I’ve spent half of that year obsessed with her best friend. Whatever is going on inside me isn’t something that’s going to go away after one night, two nights—probably not even if we spent the next six months in bed.” He brushed his lips over hers.

If he hadn’t been standing so close she could lean against him, her quivering legs just might have given way beneath her. But then he stepped away and she wobbled, automatically throwing out a hand and grabbing onto him. He covered her hand with his and with his other, he cupped her cheek. “But if this isn’t something you want, you better tell me now.”

He stroked his thumb over her lip and gazed down at her.

It was her call.

Bree knew if she told him to leave, he’d do just that. In all likelihood, whatever chance it was that lay before her would be gone. Colby wouldn’t do this again. If she pushed him away, she knew she’d never have this chance again.

Not that pushing him away was even a possibility. For her, it never had been. The minute he made it clear that he wanted her, she’d been his. All the words, all her worries and doubts and fears, none of it made any difference. Words. She closed her eyes, wished she could find the words to tell him what was inside her, but they weren’t there.

Words. They were his thing. Not hers.

But she didn’t need words.

Slowly, she stepped back. His hand fell away and as she watched, his gaze became shuttered, locking her completely out. But, as she reached for the placket of buttons running down the front of her dress, he hissed out a breath. She didn’t look at him.

Bree was pretty sure that if she looked at him, she’d freeze. She’d panic. Worse—she’d throw herself at him and ask if he loved her, even a little. She might not even care if he lied. At least not right away.

So instead of looking at him, she kept her lashes low as she worked the dress off. It was a halter style, a complicated thing that buttoned up almost like a man’s dress shirt, with a collar and a vee neckline, but it left her shoulders and back bare. It fit close, which meant that even after she unbuttoned it all the way down, she had to shimmy her way out of it. Letting it fall to her feet in a puddle, she stepped out of it.

An attack of nerves seized her, though, and she couldn’t finish stripping out of her clothes while standing in front of him. She felt the burn of his gaze following her as she started toward the pool. She undid her strapless bra and dropped it by the pool’s edge. The lights in the pool were kept on a timer and in the darkness of the night, the water gleamed a vibrant, jewel-like shade of turquoise. It reflected light off her body as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and pushed them down.

She heard him coming up behind her as she dove into the water and swam along the bottom of the pool until she reached the far edge. She surfaced, rested a hand on the edge and turned her head toward him. He still stood at the other side of the pool. Shoving off the wall, she stroked toward him in a lazy crawl. Her heart leapt as he stripped away his shirt, letting it fall to the stone walkway bordering the pool. After he kicked his shoes off, he crouched down beside the pool and hooked a hand over the back of her neck, drawing her up.