Almost in Love (18 page)

He knew the command was working too. He didn’t know if she realized it yet, but he always watched her carefully, gauging her responses to what he did so he could heighten what she liked and let go of what she didn’t. After just a few days, she more fully responded. Her eyes dilated, her chest flushed, nipples in hard points, her breathing quickened. He fell deeper in love with her every day. Could barely relax until she was in his arms again. He’d never in his life felt like this. Like he’d been waiting all of his life for her.

He listened to her in the shower, forcing himself not to join her. He’d already had her this morning when she woke. He wanted to give her some space so later when he said the words, the effect would be pronounced, a definite victory for both of them. He was so glad her flirty sister wasn’t here. Kate was always hitting on him with some muttered physics or math line. Last time she’d actually said, “There are no lines in this electromagnetic field,” while pointing to her ass. She meant an attraction, he figured, and the lack of lines, her lack of underwear, which he tried really hard not to notice in the flimsy cotton pajamas she wore all the time. She really had to work on her technique.

He waited until after lunch. Amber was standing at her easel, pondering a blank canvas. She wore a skirt as he’d asked and had stopped wearing a thong on her own. Just knowing she had nothing on under that skirt was enough to have him throbbing uncomfortably against his jeans. He sat on the sofa with the laptop, looking up movies they might see for a matinee. Only he was barely looking at the screen, all he could think about was saying the words. Taking her again. If it didn’t work, he’d warm her up the old-fashioned way. Either way, he wanted her like he wanted his next breath.

She caught him looking and smiled.

“Amber,” he growled. “Here, now.”

She flushed, and her mouth opened in shock.

He crossed to her. He didn’t mention winning the bet. Merely lifted her skirt, thrust his hand between her legs, and felt his victory. She panted. He freed himself, rolled on a condom, and lifted her. Then he was inside her, sweet relief, taking her against the wall. Her throaty moans made him crazy. Her body tightened, and she cried out, but he kept going, feeling a deeper pleasure as her body milked him.

“Again,” he growled in her ear, knowing she liked it when he drove her on.

She trembled in his arms, and he knew she needed a push. He slipped a hand between them, stroking quickly over her hard nub until she screamed and grabbed him tight; then he took her the way his body demanded, hard and deep, bringing them both to oblivion.

~ ~ ~

Amber forgot about losing the bet as she was so consumed with being with Bare. She never knew when the words would come, but they did and frequently. She gave willingly, wherever and whenever he wanted her. In the backseat of his car, in a bathroom stall at the movie theater, in his walk-in closet while his brother was watching TV in the living room, on his dining room table, in the back room of his shop. There wasn’t one room, one space in either of their apartments they hadn’t used. Not one place that didn’t have a hot memory.

The following weekend Bare asked her to go to the beach with the bird sanctuary at dawn so they could see the latest birds that had come back from the winter. And while birding wasn’t exactly her thing, she’d found that going anywhere with him held a new level of excitement. She never knew when he’d say the words that made her hot, but she knew she’d come apart in his arms, leaving her completely boneless and satisfied. He was only temporarily satisfied, but that was thrilling too. Knowing it was only her he’d ever hungered for like this. The man did have a way with words.

“I heard there was a sighting of an American woodcock,” he told her on the drive over.

“You’re such a dirty talker.”

He grinned. “I know. But that is what it’s called. It’s rare, and I want to see it with you.”

“Aww.”

“Here, look it up on my app.” He handed her his cell. “It’s not finished yet, but I’ve got some basic data. Just key in American woodcock, and you’ll see the picture and description.”

She did. “Okay. Got it.”

They took a run on the beach. And then she followed him through the trails quietly. Bare would stop occasionally and look through the binoculars. When they hadn’t seen the bird after an hour, she suggested they return to the beach.

He handed her the binoculars. “Here. Pretend to observe.”

“Why do I have to pretend to observe?” she asked, peering through the binoculars. “I know what to look for.”

He maneuvered her so her back was against a large tree. The binoculars bobbled as she realized his intent. He set them on the ground, his hand stroking up her inner thigh as he stood. She wore nothing under her skirt as he well knew. She trembled, knowing what came next, even before he said the words.

He growled in her ear, “Amber, here, now,” and took her up against the tree. Her breath caught at the sudden filling of her body. The man was perpetually hard for her. She was no longer truly surprised; she was always primed and ready with the hot look and the words that turned her on. Thank God they went birding at dawn when no one else was around. Her cry of ecstasy a short while later startled the birds from their roosts. His was a guttural groan that vibrated against the side of her neck.

He set her down, straightened her skirt, and zipped his jeans. He grinned. “I’m so glad I trained you.”

“You didn’t train me,” she protested hotly. She just liked sex with him. A lot. And his voice and words and stuff.

“No?” He pulled her close and growled in her ear, “Amber.”

Her insides clenched. Just her name was all it took. It was that growly voice. It got her every damn time.

She shoved him away. “Don’t play with me.”

He smiled, his eyes alight with mischief. “I like playing with you.”

“You’re getting arrogant. I want sweet and tender Bare back.”

He studied her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you. You’re like a dream come true for me, and I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else.”

Her stomach dropped. What this man did to her—physically, emotionally. It was the most wildly intense relationship of her life. She could handle the physical stuff a lot better than the anxiety running through her at his heartfelt words. It was strange. She knew she should feel happy, elated even, but instead she felt panicky. It was too good to be true.

“Say the command,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. “Take me again.”

Instead he wrapped his arms around her and sighed heavily, his breath parting her hair. “Come on. I have something else I want to show you today.”

“You have to feed me first.”

He pulled back and grinned. “All right.”

They stopped for breakfast at a nearby restaurant, and then he drove her to an old Victorian home back in Clover Park. It had a row of doorbells by the front door like it was divided into apartments.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s a surprise.”

He led her up the back stairs and unlocked a door to a studio apartment in the attic of the old house. The place was empty and clean. It was huge with hardwood floors and lots of light streaming through large windows at either end.

He handed her the keys. “This is your new art studio. You’ve got a whole year in this place.”

She stared at the keys. Looked back to him in confusion. “But I lost the bet.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “I think we both won. Don’t you?”

She grinned. “Wow.”

She walked around, taking in the space. There was a small bathroom tucked in one corner of what might have formerly been a closet. A small kitchenette on the other side. The rest was wide open. And the ceilings, while not high, were fine for her needs. The ceiling cleared Bare’s head by an inch.

“Open the refrigerator,” he said.

She opened the small fridge and found it stocked with all her favorite cheeses. She smiled.

“Crackers are in the cabinet.”

She pulled open the small cabinet above the sink and found boxes of her favorite crackers all lined up. She suddenly felt uneasy, like it was too much. How could she accept this gift? Who knew if they’d be together a year from now? He’d be stuck paying the rent on this unused place.

“Bare, I don’t know what to say.”

He took her hand. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, but I can’t accept this. It’s…you shouldn’t have done this.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, and he wrapped his hands around her waist.

“I wanted to. You deserve a studio space. Now you can spread out. Maybe do bigger canvases.” He searched her face. “What’s wrong?”

She pulled away. “A year is a long time to pay rent on a space,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. “You don’t even know if we’ll be together that long.”

“Why wouldn’t we be? Things are great. I love you.”

She wished she could easily say the words back to him. She hadn’t said I love you to anyone since her mother said them to her along with goodbye. It was like they were forever tied in her brain, even though she knew that was wrong, somehow I love you meant goodbye. She did have feelings for Bare, strong feelings, but…would their relationship last? None of her relationships before had lasted.

“Amber,” he snapped.

Her eyes flew to his, startled at his tone.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? What are you thinking?”

“I can’t accept this gift,” she said firmly.

“Too bad.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “I signed the lease, and you’re stuck with it.”

“Bare…” She didn’t know what to say. He was mad, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She crossed to him and rubbed her hand up and down his tense arm.

He stared at her hand. “Don’t you want to be with me long term?” he asked quietly. “I want that for us. Am I still not cool enough for you?”

A laugh escaped. “You’re very cool.”

“You think this is funny? I’m putting my heart out here, Amber. Where’s your heart?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry. I’ll…” She swallowed hard. “Thank you for the art studio.”

He narrowed his eyes, and she squirmed under his scrutiny. “Just tell me right now if you don’t see a future for us. Just say it.”

“I-I don’t know.”

He ground his teeth. She touched his cheek, and he jerked away from her hand.

“Please don’t be mad,” she said. “How can I know?” She raised her palms. “How can anyone know? We can’t predict the future.”

He pinned her with a hard look. “Do you love me?”

Her throat clogged up. She dropped her gaze to the floor. How could you really know if you loved someone? At what point did lust turn to love? When did like a lot turn to love? How could you ever feel safe enough to put your heart in someone else’s hands?

He tipped her chin up. “Look at me. I know you must feel something.”

“I do. Something.” Her eyes welled up. She was screwing things up again.

He cradled her face with both hands. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. I want to marry you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know. You can’t be sure. You’ve only known me a few months.”

He dropped his hands. “Three and a half months. That’s long enough to know what I feel for you.”

She looked at the ground. He took a step back. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“Nothing to say?” he finally asked.

“Bare, I’m screwed up. I have…issues. I’m not so good with this heart stuff. Not like you.”

He jammed a hand in his hair. “Everyone has issues. Everyone’s screwed up. Just tell me I’m not alone in this. Tell me you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Marriage, forever, love that never ended. She’d never thought they were possible for her. Never truly believed anyone would want to stick around that long.

“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “Please don’t be mad. I’m trying. I just don’t know.”

He swallowed visibly. “Maybe we should take a break. Maybe I’m pushing you for too much.”

“Bare, no.”

“I got carried away,” he muttered. “I’ll see you later. The place is yours for the year.”

And then he left. She sank on shaking legs to the floor. He said he loved her, and then he left. No good ever followed those words.

Barry didn’t stop by Amber’s place on Sunday like he normally would have. He was torn. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, but he was starting to think maybe he’d built up what they had in his mind to more than it really was. He always did that. Whenever he got into something, he went overboard.

Or maybe she only wanted him for his body. He snorted to himself. That couldn’t be it. He set out the possibilities.

A) He loved her, and she loved him, but lost her voice whenever she tried to say the words.

B) He loved her, and she didn’t love him.

C) He loved her, and she wasn’t sure if she loved him yet.

What were the odds? The likely probabilities? He didn’t know, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it didn’t matter. Every possibility led to one inevitable conclusion—he loved her. He stopped by her place on Monday before work, but she wasn’t home. He stopped by after work, still not home. Kate didn’t know where she was, or so she claimed. He hoped he’d see her at rehearsal.

She wasn’t there either. He rocked on his heels, waiting on stage for the music to start. What did she do, skip town because he’d gotten her an art studio and declared his love? The answer hit him suddenly between scenes. She was at the art studio. He should’ve checked there. Of course she’d want to paint. Painting was her soul.

“Pay attention, Bare!” Toby barked from the audience.

He shook his head. “Sorry,” he called. The music had started, and he hadn’t moved. “Go ahead, Will.”

Will started the music again. Barry jumped in on cue, faking enthusiasm for the performance, anxious to finish and check the art studio.

“Next scene is ‘The paradox,’” Toby said. “Delilah, you’re up with Zac and Bare.”