Taking What's His(39)

“Is there something I need to know about this Ian guy?”

Lydia blinked. “No. He’s nobody. Just some guy that…that Steven wants me to meet, is all.”

“Is that so?”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah.”

“Bullshit. He—” He shook his head at himself. What the hell did he think he was doing, demanding answers out of her? They weren’t exclusive. They weren’t anything, really. “Never mind. Forget I asked. Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

When they got to his truck, he helped her into it again, but his mind was elsewhere on the ride to her place. On this Ian guy, whoever the fuck he was. Was she seeing him, too? He’d beat the shit outta the guy, and then strangle him until he never even thought about approaching his Lydia again. Shit. He didn’t even know the guy, but he was already fantasizing about kicking his ass. With a muttered curse, he pulled into her parking lot, his grip on the wheel even tighter than before.

She glanced at him, then sighed and opened her door. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll walk you up.”

She hopped down. “You don’t have—”

“I said, I’ll walk you up.” He opened his door and shut it behind him. “And I will.”

“All right.” She shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

She floated his fucking boat, but she already knew that. “Your roommate come home yet?”

“No. She’s coming back in a couple of days.” She unlocked her door and stepped inside. He followed her in, closing the door behind him. He locked it, too. “Thanks for the ride,” she said again.

He nodded and rocked back on his heels, taking in her apartment. The flowers he’d given her were in a vase on a table in the dining room. That day felt like lifetimes ago. “Why did you go to Steven’s instead of going home?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you tell him about what happened? About…my issue?”

“No. Of course I didn’t.” She crossed her arms. “First of all, I didn’t mean to slip up earlier. I just saw you flinch, and before I thought it through, I was asking if you were okay.”

He swallowed hard. “It’s fine.”

“And second of all, how could I have told him? He would have wanted to know why I was there, and what we were doing.” She lifted a shoulder. “But really, I just wanted to walk somewhere to clear my head, so I did. And then I was all ready to yell at Steven for not taking care of you. But then I realized—”

“Hold on.” He held a hand up and took a step closer to her. “You walked there alone, while I was in bed sick?”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah. I’ve been walking by myself for a while now. About twenty-three years, actually.”

“You know what I mean.” He took another step toward her. Two more steps and she’d be in his arms, bent over. He hadn’t been finished with her last night when that headache had struck him. And he wasn’t finished now. “It was dark out.”

Rolling her eyes, she dropped her arms to her sides. “You don’t say? And here I thought it stayed light all day long, and I was just in a really big shadow.”

“Lydia.” Another step, and he grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to his. “You shouldn’t do that kind of shit. What if something happened to you while I was unable to help?”

“I was fine.” She grabbed his wrists, holding onto him but not pushing him away. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But I want to.” He paused, trying to form the words perfectly. “Take care of you. Like you did for me.”

She licked her lips. “You do?”

“I do.” He ran his thumb over her jawline. She was so soft and smooth. So very different from him. “I know a great way to do that, actually. Unless that Ian guy would object…”

“It’s not like that,” she said softly. “He’s nothing to me, not like you. He’s just some guy who wants me to—”

“Shh.” He lowered his lips to hers, stopping just short of touching. He hauled her closer by pressing a hand to her lower back. She surged against him, every tantalizing inch of her body touching his. “It doesn’t matter who he is, and I have no right to be a jealous prick over it. For now, you’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

He backed her against the red wall that led into her kitchen, right next to her bookshelf. It was true. The future and the past weren’t important.

All that mattered was this.

“You’re jealous?” she asked, dipping her fingers down his chest, over his belt buckle, and then cupping his hard cock. She could barely squeeze her hand in, because he was pressed up so tightly against her. “I thought you didn’t get jealous?”