Talking Dirty With the Boss(45)

A strange expression crossed her face. “So that’s all this is to you? An itch you have to scratch?”

Her voice sounded level but there was something else in the question, an element he couldn’t identify. It sounded like hurt. He frowned. “That bothers you?”

“Yeah, you know, actually. It kind of does.” She twisted away from his hold. “I’m not one of your two-week girlfriends and I don’t want to be.”

Frustration ate away at him. Trying to curb his impatience, he put his hands back in his pockets. “My two-week girlfriends? Where the hell did you hear that?”

“Office gossip. It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

His jaw tightened. “Have people got nothing better to do than discuss my sex life?”

“Apparently not.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her pulse beating fast at her throat where the blue bead of her necklace rested. “Well? True or not?”

What could he say? It was true but not for the reasons she was probably thinking. “It’s true I haven’t been looking for a relationship,” he said carefully. “But that’s got nothing to do with what’s going on between us.”

“Isn’t it? When you’re using me to scratch an itch just like you used them?”

He frowned. “I don’t use anyone, Marisa. The women I date all know that I can’t give them anything more than a couple of weeks and they’re all happy with that. Where did you get the idea that I’m using them?”

She glanced down at her feet, a finger creeping into her mouth. Biting her fingernails again. He’d begun to notice that she did that a lot when she was disturbed or uneasy. “I was with a guy once,” she said after a moment. “A photographer. I fell in love with him, the works, and I thought he loved me, too. But he didn’t. He was married the whole time and I didn’t know. I only found out when his wife called his cell phone and I happened to answer. Basically he didn’t give a shit about me. He used me. He liked my body and he spent my money and once those weren’t on offer anymore, he went back to his wife.” Her shoulders had drooped a little, her finger still in her mouth. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “Way to kill the mood, Marisa.”

Luke said nothing for a moment. Because what he really wanted to do was punch the lights out of the bastard who had hurt her. And she’d been hurt, he could see that. She’d given her heart to some idiot who hadn’t understood that it was precious.

“He sounds like a fool,” Luke said at last. “A liar and a fool. He wasn’t worth your time.”

“Yeah, well, I was a fool, too. There were signs all along that he was married but I missed them. Or perhaps it was that I didn’t want to see them.” She lifted her head. “I don’t know why it should matter. It’s not as if we’re going to be more to each other than acquaintances or anything. And you’re not like him really. I…thought you should know why I can’t do this with you again. I’m sick of people using me to work through their issues.”

He wasn’t good at giving comfort. But that strange possessiveness had begun to seep through him again and he hated the idea of her being hurt. She was having his child, she was his now. His to protect and keep safe. And he wanted to do something for her. Make her feel better. But this wasn’t a moment that called for a pat on the shoulder and a handkerchief. It required something more but he didn’t really know what that was.

So ask her, fool.

Luke took a breath. “What do you want then, Marisa?”

“Good question. Actually, no. You know what I want? I want someone to want me for me. Not because I’m beautiful or sexy and look great on their arm.” Her gaze rested on him. “Or because I’m an itch to scratch and I’m carrying their baby. I want someone to want me because of who I am.”

Her honesty flipped something inside him, an emotion he couldn’t quite place and yet was somehow familiar. As if he knew exactly what she meant.

“I’m not sure if this is what you want to hear,” he said slowly, carefully. Knowing he had to get this right because he didn’t want to hurt her again. “But I want you because you’re beautiful. And you’re sexy. And I think because you irritate me, too. No, you’re not an itch. This is more than that. A lot more. I’ve…never felt like this before.” He hesitated, meeting her gaze. “You’re a threat, Marisa. You get under my skin, under my control. And I’m trying to deal with that the only way I know how.”

She stared at him, continuing to nibble away on her finger. “You want me because I irritate you?”