No Romance Required(41)
“I’ve always loved this place. To me, nothing bad could ever happen here. Not like my parents’ house. Here it’s never been anything but warm. And safe.” She shook her head as if she’d just heard herself, then reached for his hand. He stared at her as if she’d thrown a hissing viper at his feet. “Show me?”
He nearly said no. There was way too much in her eyes, and it called to him, arousing urges he’d never allowed himself to satisfy. She wasn’t numbers on a ledger that could be tabulated and eventually conquered. No rational, emotionless plan could outweigh all the very unrational needs she inspired in him with a look.
Their fingers brushed. His stomach jumped and he spoke to distract himself from the riot of sensations her touch caused. “This is the dining room.” He cleared his throat. “We eat here.”
She nodded soberly and tightened her hold on his hand. Instead of her grip making him want to pull away, he found himself moving closer. “Very nice.”
He gestured at the cherry piece against the far wall. “Note the massive antique china cabinet that my great-grandfather built with wood from his own property. Also note all the dishes my mother’s going to have to lug with her across the country.”
“You could take some of them.”
“For what?”
“To use with your own family some day, silly.” She squeezed his fingers and wandered closer to the cabinet. But it wasn’t the dishes that stole her attention. She snatched up one of the ornate scrollwork picture frames, her face softening as she studied him and Dillon as little boys, running through the backyard. “So cute.”
He looked at the photo over her shoulder. They couldn’t have been any more than five and six. Dillon had a thicket of blond hair and Cory’s was as dark as the heavy black galoshes he wore. He was grinning at the camera, showing off a gap-toothed smile. Back then he and the Tooth Fairy had been on a first-name basis.
“I was a damn fine-looking child, I’ll give you that.”
“I meant Dillon.” She grinned and grabbed another picture. There were a lot for her to pick from, considering his mother had commemorated just about every moment of her sons’ lives until college. Even now she struck terror in their hearts when she whipped out her digital camera. “He was adorable.”
Cory pinched her ass, making her yelp. “He’s taken. You had your chance.”
“There was only one Santangelo brother I ever wanted to take my chances with,” she said lightly, not looking at him.
He frowned, studying the blond curls that spilled down her back. Unrestrained and free, just like her. The exact opposite of him.
Had she really wanted him before they’d tripped into this crazy pseudo-affair? Though there was nothing pseudo about the sex part of their arrangement. The lust between them was very real. And she’d been all too eager to claim at dinner that she’d never noticed him before a few weeks ago. More pretending?
He encircled her waist with his arms. Holding her this way made her seem impossibly fragile. Almost breakable. “Since when?”
“I like this one.” She traced her nail along the edge of a heart-shaped frame that held a picture of the boys at Dillon’s high school graduation. Dillon had a fauxhawk tipped in black for the occasion, and Cory looked suitably chagrined at his side. They’d both been in that awkward stage between boy and manhood, all gangly arms and legs.
Not that anyone could tell with Dillon. He was grinning broadly and had his arm around his brother’s shoulders. He’d always loved the spotlight. Cory, on the other hand, looked ready to make his escape. Some things never changed.
“I asked you a question.” He pulled her back against him so that the unmistakable hardness between his legs brushed her tight, firm ass. An image of those pale swells reddened from his mouth filled his mind and he released a long breath. “How long have you wanted me?”
“What makes you think I meant you?”
“Now, Victoria.”
She turned to face him, still clutching his picture. “Ninth grade.”
“What?”
She shrugged jerkily and set the photo aside. “Now you know.”
“But you hate me,” he mumbled, amazed he could speak at all. If she’d hauled off and punched him in the gut, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Or hurt.
Why hadn’t she ever told him? They’d wasted so much time—
Wait. Hold up. Wasting time indicated that another outcome had been possible. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be.
Her broken, brittle laugh cut him straight to the bone. “Let’s amend that. You hate me. Besides, you couldn’t see me after you’d been confronted with all of Melly’s tall, sleek lusciousness first. Don’t you remember that school dance where you mooned over her all night?”