London Falling (Falling #2)(37)
“It’s lovely,” I heard myself say, though it was barely a whisper. I was too focused on the feel of his body touching mine, creating that ever present energy that was impossible to ignore.
“Not as lovely as you are.” The tips of his fingers trailed from my neck down my spine, my dress leaving complete access to his bold touch. I gasped. “Hadn’t heard from you in a couple weeks, been busy avoiding me?” There was with a hint of laughter in his tone.
I shrugged and turned toward him. “I have been busy. With my client.” The word “client” came out tight and bitter.
His eyebrows rose. “Ah, I see. You’ve been entertaining your client, forgetting all about the incredible night we had.” His lips curled into a small frown. “I hoped I’d see you this evening.” His hand came out and lightly rested on my hip pulling me a bit closer to his warmth. Every instinct told me to run far away, get away from this man. If I didn’t, I feared he’d never let me go. My body yearned to be closer, slide up against him, reenact that evening we shared all over again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Yes please!
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Because there’s something between us. You feel it. I feel it. I, for one, would like to explore it. Go out with me again?” He crowded my space, leaving only an inch between us. His breath lifted the small hair on my neck to tickle and taunt.
“Not a good idea.”
“And why not?” His hand rose and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’m no good for you. Trust me on this.” Finally, I’d admitted the truth. He was not safe getting attached to me. I was incapable of giving him what he needed. In the end, he’d always want more, to settle, to build a life with someone. With me that was not an option. Sex and a good time were all I was willing to give. The sooner he understood that, the better off he’d be.
Collier’s head tipped back and he laughed. I stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out how being brutally honest with him was funny.
“Do you think this is a joke?”
“More like a tragedy. One my beauty, we will survive. Maybe a bit battered and our hearts bruised, but once we let the tender bits heal, it’s going to be so good. I feel it. It’s fate.” He used the one word I never expected a man to say to me again. Fate. Thoughts of my dead husband careened to the surface, muddying the sensation between Collier and I with heartache and grief.
I shook my head and pushed at his chest, forcing him to give me a couple feet of space. “You’re insane. We just met. Had one date. One fan-f*cking-tastic night, emphasis on the f*cking, but that’s all there will ever be. I am not your destiny.” I pointed at him and slipped away as Nate opened the door and my savior walked in. Tripp. God, his timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I needed him like I needed a stiff drink.
“Bridge baby,” he said, arms opening up. I slumped into his embrace calming the jittery hopped up energy that came with conversations with the sexy Englishman. That man confused and confounded me. Everything I knew and understood about myself, about how I wanted to live my life was in a state of juxtaposition when near Collier. I didn’t like it. In fact, I loathed it.
***
It took every ounce of my energy not to pound the bastard with his arm over the back of London’s chair. Tripp. Her supposed best friend. Right now he looked very friendly indeed. If I didn’t know better, I’d be convinced they were lovers, definitely more than friends. Tripp easily touched her in very overt personal ways, as a lover would. What was it she’d said about Tripp? That he was significant in her life, that she couldn’t live without him.
My heart ached as I watched him tickle her shoulder, the shoulder I once sunk my teeth into during the height of passion. Her gorgeous body withered under mine, just a scant couple weeks ago. How did we get here? Her stunning eyes met mine across the table. I put everything I felt into my gaze, trying to tell her what words couldn’t.
I missed her.
I wanted her.
I needed her.
London made a move to stand. Tripp stood and pulled out her chair for her. At least he was a gentleman. Wanker.
Three of the men at the table stood when she did, my brother and I’s manners called for it. Hank’s did as well. I liked the bloke more and more. Even though he was a Yank, he had a distinct southern accent. Reminded me how very similar Americans were to their British allies. Back in my mother country, different sections carried different dialects just as in the US.
“Um, restroom?” London asked Nathaniel.
Before he could tell her, I walked over and took her dainty wrist. “I’ll lead her.” I wanted to end that comment with ’anywhere’ but I kept that to myself.
“I’ll just bet you will,” Tripp whispered. I responded with a glare. The man licked his lips and shook his head, turning back to our dinner companions.
What the hell was the bugger’s problem anyway? When we’d met, he was overly friendly. He seemed to encourage our kiss on the street. Then when I called, he seemed to genuinely give advice, made it known he was not with London. So why the anger now? Oh bother. Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
I led London down a long hall. Instead of heading to the bathroom closest to the dining room, I brought her through a second guest room that had a combined bathroom.