Page 26 of Lessons in Love
You are. “You are.” Shit. I watch her for a reaction, praying it’s a good one.
Her fingers fumble together in her lap, that sweetest of pinks seen even in the low light reaching us from the kitchen. “You say the nicest things, Hardy. You’re really good at this flirting thing.”
Sighing, I realize she thinks I’m saying this as part of the plan, that it’s put on and not real. I take my wine and drink. “Thanks,” I reply, disappointment coating my words. “We should eat before it gets cold.” I never was good at hiding my emotions. Maybe it’s because I hate lying, and liars even more. I try to live my life as honestly as possible. When I screw up, I own it. When I succeed, I own that shit too.
This game we’re playing is dangerous, but it seems only to my heart. So as much as I want to tell her I’m starting to have feelings for her, I’m not ready to lose her. She’s clearly into the asshole, so not only do I find myself now lying, but I’ve also become the liar I loathe.
Stealing a glimpse of her, I realize—She’s totally worth it.
Chapter Nine
Silence stretched across dinner, and I hated it. I don’t want this for us. After another few bites, I tell her, “This might be the best lasagna I’ve ever had.” Truth.
That brightens her spirit. “Really?”
“Really.”
“It’s my great-grandmother’s recipe. She wasn’t Italian but she once told me about a torrid love affair she had with a chef while visiting Rome in the twenties.
Things begin to turn around for us both. I do love me some sexual banter. “Torrid, huh?”
“I think that means she had sex with him against her family’s wishes.”
“I think that means a lot more. How do you feel about torrid?”
“With you?” She sets her plate down and takes a sip of her wine before sitting back and tucking her legs under her.
She looks good on my couch, making me wonder what she’ll look like on my bed. “We can do torrid?”
“I think I have a few other lessons to learn first.”
“I think you’re doing just fine.”
“That’s because you’re being nice.”
I set my plate down. “Stop saying that, okay?” Tapping her leg, I make sure she’s looking in my eyes to see I mean what I say. “When I say something to you, I mean it. I’m not saying it to make you feel better or on false pretenses. If you feel better because of it, great. That’s a bonus, but I don’t lie and I’m not lying to you.”
“I’m sorr?—”
“I don’t need you to apologize either. I want you to relax and enjoy our time together, like I am.”
“It’s just so easy with you. It’s never been like this before with any of the guys I dated.”
“That’s because they wanted to fuck you.”
The lilt in her voice is heard, the anticipation seen in her eyes. “And what do you want to do?”
Resting my hand on her thigh, she’s right. It’s easy being with her. “I want to fuck you.”
I’m pushed in the chest and fall back on the couch laughing. She’s laughing and says, “You’re terrible.”
“I’m also a guy.” When I sit up, I add, “And I want you to find love.”
“You mean teach me to find love,” she corrects, missing my subtlety altogether.
On the tail end of an exhale, I give her what she wants to hear. “Yes, Virginia. I want to teach you to find love.”
“So how am I doing with the flirting?”
