Page 143 of The Bet
Chapter 42
They went out a couple of times the following week. Proper dates. Except that unlike the dates he was accustomed to, he couldn't do anything. Or rather, he wouldn't allow her to do anything for him, but if he didn't come clean and tell her, he was going to make himself ill.
Isabel Laronde was one of the sexiest girls he had ever met, and the more he got to know her, the more he started to fall for her. Each time, whether they came back to hers, or to his, they would make out, and oh, boy was it tough on his balls, to resist her.
It had been weighing on his mind, the things he needed to say to her, and this evening, as she lay on her side in his arms, her legs entwined in his, her face resting along his chest, he was waiting for a suitable moment. They’d made out, nothing more, both fully clothed, just lying, and talking.
“You know that time I asked you about the reports?
“For Hennessy?”
“And the others, after? The bar charts I wasn't sure about?”
“The 3D ones?” she asked, her fingers moving over the ridges of his stomach. He had to keep an eye on that roving hand of hers. It wasn't fair, he knew that. He'd seen her, had touched and explored her, and yet he hadn't allowed her the same. Hadn't even let her see him naked, knowing that the day he did, he'd be unable to walk away.
“Yes, those.” He cleared his throat. “I have a confession to make.”
“You're a walking confessional box, Stone,” she still called him that, sometimes, a reminder of where they had come from.
“I kind of knew how to do those charts.”
Her fingers settled just above his navel. “You did?”
Tell her now. Tell her.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you say you didn't know?” She propped herself up on her elbow, her dark eyes staring intently into his, her voice softly questioning.
“Because, at that time,” he replied, clearing his throat again. “I didn't know how to get close to you, and you hated me back then.” The memories of their earlier days rewound and played in front of him. He averted her gaze and focussed on her hair.
“I wasn’t charmed by you,” she murmured, tracing her finger along the outline of his lips.
“You weren’t easy to charm.”
“I was allergic to it,” she giggled.
“You had reason to be.” He reached out and grabbed a handful of her soft hair, rubbed his thumb around the silky tresses. “So I figured that if I asked you how to do them … it would give you the opportunity to show me. And it would give me the opportunity to get close to you.”
“Crafty,” she said, reprimanding him with a gentle pinch to his lower lip.
“Some girls can be won over by champagne and diamonds, but you …” he rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from her. “You were hard work, Laronde.”
“Any more lies I should know about?”
Now was his chance. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat. “It wasn’t a lie, it was an excuse to see you.”
“And you would have needed an excuse, because I doubt that I would have wanted anything to do with you in the early days.”
“My point exactly. I had to resort to underhanded tactics.”
“I'd seen you with Savannah’s cousin, as well. Everything I'd heard about you, you lived out.”
“Yeah. You had good reason to be wary.”
“I know I did.”
“I considered myself a stud,” he said, cringing at the reminder.
