Maeve’s single cryptic text had been the only warning. No explanation of what he wanted. No response when she’d texted back. And now, after two weeks of avoiding him, of lying awake at night thinking about the hard crush of his mouth and the low rumble of his voice, of telling herself just a few more days and she’d get past this physio-emotional chaos she’d never expected herself to be a part of, he was here.
She didn’t have to answer. She could walk back to her room. Turn out the lights and lie in bed until the sun came up the next day. It didn’t matter that Garrett had seen the light in her windows and knew she was home. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t understand what she was doing. He might not even blame her.
So why wasn’t she turning around and walking back down the hall? Why wasn’t she flipping off the lights and climbing into her bed alone?
Because it would be rude? Because he’d spent the last forty minutes driving back from a family party he hadn’t even made it inside for to see her? Because maybe they needed to talk around an issue they’d already beaten to death?
No.
The answer lay in the nervous flutter deep in her belly. In the almost painful thump of her heart. In the eager ache that had permeated her body as a whole.
She wanted him.
Like she couldn’t remember wanting anything before.
Fingers trembling, she reached for the door. Felt the pull of him like a loose charge in the air even as she grounded herself against the knob. And then the door was swinging open and there was Garrett with those deep blue whirlpool eyes coming up to meet hers as his lips slanted into a grin.
This was such a mistake.
One solid arm was braced against the frame above her head as he reached for the back of her neck and leaned in, stopping only a breath away. “I hear you need a distraction.”
Ah-ha.
Now she understood. Maeve had repeated something only Garrett could fully understand. And he hadn’t liked what he’d heard.
Heat rushed her cheeks and, wetting her lips, she tried to think of something to say. Only the rough growl of approval as his eyes followed the movement blanked her mind of anything beyond how glad she was to see him … and how wrong that was.
She looked up into his eyes. “I keep thinking about you.”
A nod. She could feel his breath swirling over the side of her face. “Same here.”
“I thought—” She swallowed, tried not to lean into all the heat of a body too close to ignore. “Giving someone else a chance might help.”
The fingers at the back of her neck stroked, soft and gentle. “So you’ve got a date?”
And yet there was no mistaking the firm hold for anything but the possessive claim it was.
“No. I backed out.” It wouldn’t be fair to go out with one man solely in the hopes of his distracting her from another. Especially when the likelihood of it working was so slim.
“Good.”
God, those eyes. The feel of him so close. Her body hummed in response to his proximity. What were they going to do about this?
“So I’ve got an idea.”
Nichole nodded. She was starting to get an idea as well. One night. The night they never should have left unfinished all those weeks ago. Finally out of their systems. And then they’d never get within fifty feet of each other again. It wouldn’t interfere with her relationship with Maeve. It wouldn’t threaten anything.
“I like it,” she murmured, pressing her palms into the broad chest too temptingly close to ignore.
Garrett let out a gruff laugh, then tipped her head back to bring her attention up to his eyes. “I’m glad. But how about you hear it first, then agree?”
Was she really going to do this?
A look into those eyes burning with a need that matched her own—yes. Definitely.
One night. It was all she needed.
“Tell me.” Her palms skimmed downward, riding the dips and valleys of his abdomen.
“We give Maeve’s plan a go.”
That caught her attention. Chin pulling back, she shook off the haze of need and focused on the man before her. “What?”
“You say you don’t know how to do casual. And I don’t know how to do anything else. So we meet in the middle. Find some safe place that feels good. That’s about having some fun instead of forever. I’m thinking, for a while, we could be friends and lovers. We’d trust each other not to let it go too far and just … learn to date.”
For a while. Not one night.
She let out a heavy breath.
“Garrett, I don’t think you’re the right guy to practice dating with. You were right about the strings. Those complications matter.”
“I’m the perfect guy. And the only string I see is the one Maeve keeps dangling in front of me—the one with you on the end. She’s not going to flip when this is over. She’s a big girl. And she’s your best friend, so give her some credit.”
Nichole’s mouth dropped open in shock. Garrett was telling her to give Maeve some credit?
“You’ve got to be kidding?”
Garrett shook his head, brought his thumb around to stroke across her bottom lip.
Oh, God. Such slight contact … but with an earth-shattering impact.
“Not even close. And, to underscore my point, I’m going to give you your first lesson in keeping it casual.” Those deep blue pools were pulling her deeper. The gravel-rough voice was like a siren song, luring her to depths she shouldn’t go. “Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be. Neither one of us wants this to get too serious. So it won’t. Simple.”
“Easy for The Panty Whisperer to say.” His thumb was still at her lip, offering that tantalizing sensation with every word.
“Easy for anyone on the same page to say.” He ducked down so his eyes were level with hers. “And you’re the perfect woman for me because I need more, Nichole. More than the kind of meaningless that’s been on tap for longer than I want to remember. But my more has a pretty hard limit when it comes to the future. And you might be the only woman I trust not to try and change that. Don’t you see? Right now, at this place in our lives, we’re a perfect fit.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted it to be that easy. But sometimes things didn’t go the way people planned. Sometimes the best intentions led to the worst kinds of hurt. And she was afraid.
He leaned closer then, so his words slid around her ear in warm rush. “Trust me, Nichole.”
Trust.
