Page 18 of Secrets at Seaside
He reluctantly sat back and moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving her space, hoping she wouldn’t send him away before they had a chance to talk.
“How did you know I’d go swimming tonight?” She fiddled with the edge of his T-shirt, her eyes still not venturing to his.
He sighed. It was time for complete honesty, no matter what the cost. “I always know.”
That brought her eyes to his. She shook her head, and confusion wrinkled her brow. A strand of wet hair stuck to her cheek, and he carefully moved it away with his index finger.
“I have always known, Amy. I wait up and watch you walk home, just to be sure you don’t fall or run into trouble.”
“You watch? Like…” Her cheeks bloomed with embarrassment.
“No, babe. I don’t watch you down at the pool. Just up here, to make sure you get home okay after the others have gone inside.” Not that he wouldn’t love to see her skinny-dip. He’d like nothing more than to skinny-dip with her, to feel her gentle curves sliding against him.
“How long?”
Tony tried to blink away his lascivious thoughts. “Um…”Nine inches?Typical guy thoughts and responses came easily to him. Denial. Protective mode. Those came reflexively. It was the other stuff, the stuff from the heart that didn’t come as easily.
“How long have you watched me?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. He knew exactly how long. Since the first time he caught wind that they’d been skinny-dipping, when they were teenagers. He wanted to be honest with her. “Forever, I guess.”
She nodded, and her eyes grew serious as they dropped to his chest again. “You have a new scar.”
He glanced down at the thin white scar that snaked along his left pectoral muscle. “Yeah. Rough ride in the spring. I texted you about it. Cane Garden Bay, remember? In the Caribbean.”
She held her finger an inch from his chest, her eyes trained on his, as if she were waiting for him to stop her. When he didn’t, she ran her finger over the scar. “I remember.”
He felt himself getting aroused and laced his fingers with hers to keep from losing his mind. The cottage was quiet, save for the sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind through the back window screen. He wanted to pull her against him and close his eyes, drift away to sleep with her warm and safe against him. He wished that she’d somehow inherently know what he was there to say. But as he looked at her expectant, trusting eyes, he knew it was time to tell her the truth. It was time to tell her all the things she’d never let him say fourteen years ago.
“Amy, I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap, and he drew her chin up so he could see them again.
“Tony, please. You did me a favor. My feelings for you were holding me back, and now…” She shrugged, but she didn’t look thankful.
Thank heaven for that.
“It’s okay that I’m not your type, Tony. I get it. I’m—”
“Not my…” His breathing quickened. “Amy, you are one hundred percent my type. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how hard this is for me?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, and when he saw her shaking her head and withdrawing from him, he was sure he’d blown it.
“Stop.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Just…stop.”
“No, Amy. I won’t stop. You need to know how I feel. How I really feel. How I’ve felt for years.”
She looked away, and he got up and paced, too frustrated to sit any longer. “Don’t you see? You’reAmy Maples. You’re sweet and good and all things tender wrapped up in this beautiful person. You’re generous and giving, and—”
Amy pushed to her feet. The towel fell to the floor, and gravity sent his T-shirt down to her upper thighs. “And not your type.” She crossed her arms and the shirt inched up higher.
Tony forced himself to look into her hurt-filled eyes.
“That’s not true. I said that because I’m not the man youneed, Amy, not because I don’twantyou.” He closed the distance between them and couldn’t help touching her arms.Everythingfelt different, more intense, more important and urgent. He knew he’d been fooling himself by thinking that after knowing she might be gone forever he wouldn’t do everything he could to keep her with him. Her lower lip was trembling, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the cold, because he could feel heat coming off of her, drawing them together until their thighs collided. It was all he could do to remain focused on making her understand where he was coming from. But he had to. It was now or never. He couldn’t let her drift further away.
“Amy, you deserve to be put on a pedestal. You deserve flowers and candy and a man who will always put you first. You deserve a man who will spend every minute of every day taking care of you, loving you.”
Her hands splayed across his abs, causing his thoughts to teeter between apology and desire.
“And you’re not that guy.”
