Ramsay(32)

Brogan suddenly looked up at me, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he  knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. He moved more fully onto the  bed, grabbing a pillow and lying on his side, propped up on one elbow.  My God, the man was sexy.

He turned over his first card-a six-and glanced up at me. I turned over  my card-a queen-and gathered both. "My truth or dare?" I asked.

He shrugged. "We can play that way or we can wait for a war."

I bit at my lip. "Let's wait for a war. These truths or dares shouldn't be easily won."

"Nothing good ever is."

I grabbed a pillow as he'd done and stretched out next to him. Our  positions felt very intimate, our bodies facing each other, our faces  close. Of course, the fact that we were in bed-or rather on bed-together  intensified the intimacy. We played for another few minutes before  there was a war. I won. He gave me a small smile.

"I want a truth," I said immediately.

"Okay." I noticed his pulse beating steadily at the side of his neck and  had the sudden desire to kiss him there. He watched me closely, seeming  to still and I wondered what I'd revealed on my face that caused him to  study me the way he was.

"How do you do it? The numbers, I mean."

He tilted his head, considering. "I honestly don't really know." He  looked behind me, frowning slightly as if he was trying to figure out  how to word his answer. "I've always seen the world in measurements. I  constantly compute lines, relationships between objects." He looked at  the wall to our right where two pictures hung. "Those pictures are a  sixteenth of an inch off." I studied them. They looked perfectly aligned  to me. "I notice all these things all the time. It doesn't bother me,  and I don't think about it necessarily, it's just-"                       
       
           



       

"Part of you."

He nodded. "Yes. I see the world in numbers. Everything. And with actual  numbers, it's like," he rubbed his fingertips together, "I can feel  them. I feel their weight, their value." He furrowed his brow. "It's  hard to explain. It's just . . . the way my mind works."

I nodded. I found it fascinating. I found him fascinating. Hadn't I  always? But he looked slightly uncertain, picking up his cards and  moving us away from the topic and back to the game.

We played for a few quiet moments, both of us sipping our wine here and  there before there was another war. After I'd turned over a ten, I  asked, "Who's going to win this round?"

Brogan's lip tipped up. "Me, most likely with a face card." Sure enough, he turned over a jack.

"Impressive," I murmured.

After another few rounds, we both turned over the same card. My eyes met  his. "Another war," I said dramatically, breathing out the word. He  laughed and my heart squeezed, suddenly realizing what a rare sound it  was.

We turned over our three cards and then at the same time, revealed our  final card. Me: three, Brogan: four. "Damn," I sighed. "All right. Do  you want a truth or dare?"

He propped himself up a little higher. "Truth." He dragged his teeth  over his bottom lip. "You said you haven't been with anyone, since me."  He paused and my breath hitched slightly. "But have you dated? Is there  anyone . . ." He seemed to still as he waited for my answer, but his  expression didn't hold any hint of whether or not he cared overly much  about my answer. I sat up and grabbed my glass of wine off the bedside  table where I'd placed it and took a drink, returning to the position  I'd previously been in on the bed.

"I didn't date much in college-not until the end anyway. I, well, the  pregnancy . . . and then like I said, my dad passed away during my first  year. After that, I kind of kept to myself. I dated a little bit during  my senior year, but no one special. I've dated a little since I've been  home, but mostly, the company and all our family problems have kept me  occupied. I haven't felt like I had much to give to another person. Does  that answer your question?"

He nodded slowly, and our eyes lingered for a few heartbeats, causing a  warm flush to move through my body. Brogan picked up his cards and I did  the same. My eyes ran down his muscular legs, my gaze resting on the  way one foot rubbed unconsciously at the cuff of the opposite leg of his  jeans. He was testing textures even with his feet. For some reason,  that caused a shiver to run down my spine and my nipples to tighten.

After only two more cards, there was another war. When Brogan won again,  I shot him a speculative look. "You sure you're not cheating somehow?"

He smirked. "I give you my word."

"Hmm." I gave him a suspicious glance and he chuckled. "Okay, shoot."

He reached over and grabbed his wine glass off the bench at the end of  the bed and took a sip. Turning back to me, his expression was serious.  His finger moved down the piece of silk at the edge of the pillowcase  and I watched it, back . . . forth.

"The women," he finally said. "How did you know? How did you know that  had been difficult for me?" A fleeting look of vulnerability passed over  his face and I blinked. Brogan.

"I . . . I remembered you seem to . . ." I looked away, not sure how to  phrase what I was trying to say. "You always seemed to have very  heightened senses. I watched you." My eyes shifted away. I felt  vulnerable myself, as if in answering this question, he'd understand  just how much I'd watched him, noticed his every movement, every  reaction, how much I'd thought about him. He knew now. "You always got  this look on your face when you were dealing with two sensations at the  same time-a sort of . . . pain almost, as if it were too much. It  intrigued me."

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, that's what it's like." Our gazes clashed, something powerful leaping between us.

"I know," I said. "I don't know exactly how I know. I just do. I did."

"My mother said I was a terrible baby, crying constantly." He laughed, a  small sound containing little humor. His tongue found the imperfect  tooth and ran slowly over it.

I tilted my head, watching him, taking my lip into my mouth again. His  gaze moved to my mouth and lingered there the way mine had just lingered  on his. "It must have been awful not to be able to explain what you  were feeling, how everything was too much."

"I've never tried to explain it. And no one's ever noticed. I just-"

"Deal with it. Stand apart from people, hold your breath sometimes. I know."

His gaze leapt to mine, and he looked almost stricken for a brief  moment. He cleared his throat but when he spoke, it was still slightly  scratchy. "Yes." He picked up his cards and looked down at his hands  holding them, looking as if he was grappling with his own thoughts. He  didn't like that I knew that about him. I didn't blame him. I supposed  he considered it very personal. Maybe even the most personal thing about  him.                       
       
           



       

"Your eyes aren't bionic, though," I said, attempting to lighten the mood, to set him at ease.

He looked confused for a brief moment and then set his cards down and  reached up and adjusted his glasses, his lip curving upward. "Bionic?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, you're sort of like a superhero with your bionic senses."

His eyes met mine, drooping lazily. He lay back fully on his pillow,  folding his arms behind his head. "You know what else I can sense, Mo  Chroí?" he asked. "You want me. I can smell it." His eyes wandered down  to my crotch and then slowly back up to my eyes. He watched me, waiting  to see how I'd react to that comment.

I felt color rush to my face. Jesus. "You're trying to shock me and make  me uncomfortable because that's how I've just made you feel," I  whispered. "But you asked me, Brogan. You asked me, and I gave you the  truth. And now you're punishing me for it."

He kept staring at me, his expression seemingly a mixture of tension and  shame and a small bit of confusion. He let out a harsh breath, closing  his eyes. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "You're right," he said. He sat up, tossing his glasses onto the bench  behind him and then moving toward me until he was leaning over me. "But  you want my truth, Lydia? I'll give you this one willingly. I want you,  too." He paused, intensity vibrating between us as my pulse jumped and  my breath hitched. "I want you so bloody much I feel like I'll die from  it." As if in a dream, I leaned up slightly, and he gripped my upper  arms and guided me until I was on my knees as he was, my body pressed  against his, our breath mingling.