Page 45 of Into These Eyes
As the colour in my face deepens, so does his, but his gaze remains unwavering.
“Oh,” I say. “I’m so sorry. I interrupted you last night.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“But, you were with someone.” I imagine a faceless woman latched onto his neck in the throes of passion, then the phone call interrupting them. I turn back to the coffee machine, trying to distract myself from the ugly feeling in my stomach. What do I care if Gavin Lake has a girlfriend, or whatever she may be?
“The only person I was with last night, was you.”
I whirl around, my breath catching. “Are you trying to tell me I did that?”
He tilts his head slightly and shrugs his broad shoulders. “That’s what happened.”
“I would never—”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that, but I do happen to remember what happened last night.”
As the coffee machine falls silent, we stare at each other while I try to will my useless memory into a movie that’ll explain what I can’t even comprehend. I had my lips on Gavin Lake’s neck? I sucked on his skin? It makes no sense.
Except something about him tasting like salt flies into my muddled brain and as it does, his gaze drops to my lips. Only then do I realise I’m running my tongue over them, trying to recall that taste.
I quickly take the sugar out of the cupboard at my knees, slide the mug over to him and grab the milk from the fridge. When I turn around, I ask, “How?”
He locks eyes with mine. “I was trying to find the right key to unlock the door … and you just started … tasting me.”
I gape at him, suddenly recalling my arms around his neck, him holding me, how right it felt to be in his arms. Then nuzzling into his neck.
As my face burns, spontaneous combustion seems like a welcome option right now.
“So, you do remember,” he says, clearly aware of the state I’m in.
I watch him scoop sugar into his mug and stir. “I … but … I don’t understand … why didn’t you stop me?”
“I told you, I had my hands full just trying to get in the door.”
I scoff, “You’re telling me, with all those muscles, I overpowered you?”
When he rubs a hand over the bruise on his neck, I get the distinct impression he’s reliving it.
“Gavin?” I wait until his eyes reluctantly meet mine. “I think you owe me an explanation. And if we’re going to work togetherto clear your name, there can’t be any secrets between us. There can’t be any lies. Or it simply won’t work.”
He scratches the back of his head. “I agree. It’s just … the truth might mean you no longer want to help. And that scares the hell out of me.”
My heart picks up pace. What the fuck had I done last night? What hadhedone? “Did we have sex?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
His eyes widen. “Christ, Jamie. I’d never take advantage like that. Ever. The closest contact we had was this,” he says, indicating his neck.
And when you took off my underwear,I don’t say. But he doesn’t look guilty, just flustered and embarrassed. “Well, then, how did you let that happen?”
Releasing a long, reluctant breath, he finally says, “Because if felt so fucking good … I just … let you.”
I blink, not quite sure I heard that right. I watch a multitude of expressions pass behind his eyes, but the one thing I don’t see there is a lie.
“Oh,” I murmur, my heart thundering as I turn to the coffee machine again and get another mug going.
That hadn’t been what I’d expected him to say. More excuses are what I’d thought he’d come up with. Instead, he told me the blatant truth. Even though he truly believed I’d be so disgusted by his admission that I’d want him out of my life, he hadn’t lied to me.
He places his coffee mug on the counter and stands a little straighter, waiting for me, I think, to tell him to leave.
