Page 33 of Engaging his Enemy
“Do you have any candles?”
“In the junk drawer. There’s a lighter, too.” He found the right drawer but couldn’t see what he was looking for. “I can’t find them.”
“Here, let me.” She moved beside him, the scent of her filling her nostrils as she dug into the drawer.
“Davina.”
“They’re in here someplace. Just give me a second.”
He touched her shoulder, turning her around. “Davina…”
She jumped, then dug in the drawer again. “I need to find the candles.”
This time he left her alone, though her nearness had his nervous system on high alert. He could feel the heat coming off her body.
“Got it,” she said, the flame of a lighter suddenly chasing away the darkness as she lit the candle’s wick. “There.” She put the candle down on the island, staring into the flame for a long moment. Her cheeks were flushed with color. She sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Light a candle?”
She met his eyes. “Have sex with you.”
He turned slowly around and leaned back against the island. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not good at it.”
A sharp twinge of disappointment pierced his mind. He hadn’t realized until that moment, he’d been hoping she hadn’t slept with anyone but him, but clearly that was not the case. He chastised himself for his own double standard. “I’m sure you are.”
She turned to him. “No, I’m not. I’m clumsy and I’m awkward. I’m uncomfortable.” She took his drink off the counter and downed the rest with one gulp.
“We’ll go slow.”
“No. This is a terrible idea.” She turned and left the kitchen, leaving him no choice but to follow with the candle.
She paced along the back of the couch. “I have stretch marks. Big, nasty stretch marks.”
“From having my baby.” He put the candle down on an end table and moved to intercept her, but she shimmied out of his reach.
“I’m fat.”
“You are not fat. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m thirty pounds heavier than the last time you saw me. Don’t even pretend you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed.” He moved to the couch and lay down on his back, threading his fingers behind his head. “I was sitting right here a few minutes ago, thinking about how much I like your curvy hips.”
She stopped abruptly. “You were not.”
“And you have killer legs. You used to be a little knock-kneed, no offense, but now… wow.”
“I was not knock-kneed.”
“Gangly.”
She gasped. “I was not!”
“Just a little bit. But not anymore.”
“I hate you right now.”
