Guilty Needs(44)

“I’m looking at you right now,” she pointed out.

“Then look at me and answer my question.”

She batted at his hand and slipped away from him. “You’re asking me a question you really don’t have any right to ask.”

That, in itself, was almost answer enough for him. Bree wasn’t a coward. By nature, she wasn’t the evasive type, unless it involved him. If she didn’t love him, she’d flat out tell him. He took another step toward her and this time when she backed away, he didn’t let it deter him. “I think I do have the right. But maybe I should tell you something first.”

“The only thing you should do is just leave me alone.”

As she tried to brush past him, he caught her arm, whirled her around until she crashed into his chest. Sliding his arms around her waist, he held her close. “Oh, you might be right on the money there. I should leave you alone and I’ve got no right to expect much of anything from you after the other night. But I need to know the answer.” His hand slid up over her side, along her shoulder, curved along her neck. Using his thumb, he angled her chin up.

Her eyes were dark and stormy gray, her body rigid against his. He lowered his head, pressed his mouth to hers, but she remained unyielding.

“Why?” she demanded, averting her head. “What difference does it make?”

“All the difference in the world,” he whispered against her cheek. He rubbed his mouth along the smooth, silken skin, then lifted his head to watch her face as he told her. “I love you, Bree. I love you, so your answer makes all the difference in the world.”

Her mouth fell open. Tears gleamed in her eyes. A harsh breath rasped out of her and her body went slack in his arms. “You…what…what did you say?”

He’d been terrified to tell her, he realized. Absolutely terrified. But now, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Cupping her chin in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers and this time when he kissed her, she didn’t pull away. “I love you,” he said against her lips.

Her hands clutched at the front of his shirt, grasping handfuls of the worn cotton.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her, watched as a couple of tears broke free and slid down her cheeks. He licked them away.

The feel of his mouth on hers had Bree shuddering. She wanted to grab onto him. Hold him close. Demand he say it again…and again…and again.

But what if he didn’t mean it? Or what if he was wrong?

What if—

From the depths of her subconscious, another voice started to whisper. Alyssa’s voice, or rather the memory of it. Something she’d said only a few short weeks ago. Yet in a way, it felt like another lifetime.

What if it means everything?

What ifs. What did they add up to? Too often heartbreak, headache, misery, confusion—regret.

Swallowing, she worked her fingers free from his shirt and pushed against his chest. He let go but she could tell he didn’t want to. She had to think, though. And she couldn’t think with him touching her. It just wasn’t possible. Taking a few steps away, she turned her back on him and rubbed her hands over her face.

A minute to think. She needed just a minute—no. Maybe a little more time. A few days. Think it through, try to…oh, the hell with that.

Turning back to him, she asked, “Do you mean that?”

“If I didn’t mean it, why the hell would I say it?”

Okay…good answer. Her head was spinning, her chest aching. It dawned on her that she really wasn’t breathing a whole hell of a lot. Breathing. Needed to breathe. Sucking in a deep gulp of air, she waited for the room to quit spinning around on her. It didn’t happen though and Bree realized it had nothing to do with her breathing or lack of. She stumbled, a little off balance and ended up bracing her hands on the back of the nearest chair. “You really mean it?”

His lips curved. That sexy, yummy mouth… Her heart skipped a beat as he took one step, then another toward her, staring at her with eyes that held heat and promises. “I mean it. I love you.”

He cornered her up against the chair but this time, even if the thought occurred to her to move away, she doubted she could. Her legs weren’t working much better than her lungs. “Really?” she whispered again. “As in…for real?”

Colby dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

She sagged in his arms as he murmured, “Really. As in very for real.”

Bree wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to dance. And she wanted to find someplace quiet so she could sort all this out. But she couldn’t move.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. She could move…some. She had no trouble sliding her arms around his neck and burying her face against him. “Really?”

A large hand slid around and cradled the back of her head, the other slipping around her waist and cuddling her close. “Very really.”

Blindly, she turned her mouth to his and he met her kiss with a desperation that rivaled her own. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she jerked it upward, baring his chest but snarling in frustration when it got stuck under his arms. He leaned back and tore it off and then he did the same to hers. Her bra was next, torn away and left to fall to the ground.

Reaching for him, she groaned when he evaded her hands, focusing instead on the belt to her shorts. He stripped them away, knelt down to fight with her work boots while she braced her hands on his shoulders and tried to remain upright. The rest of his clothes, he didn’t bother messing with, other than to tear open the fly of his jeans and shove both the denim and his boxers down.