Bad (5 page)

"Good?"

He managed a mumbled 'yeah' as he silently acknowledged that not only was she gorgeous, she could whip up a gourmet sub from a few ingredients.

"I lived on these things when I first came to America," she said, taking a huge bite out of hers.

And damned if it didn't turn him on, seeing her put something that big in her mouth.

She eyed him speculatively. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Shit. "I'm still a little off-kilter at seeing you here."

"Why?"

"Because I don't bring people here."

Her jaw dropped a little. "Ever?"

"No." Could he sound any more of a loser?

"So why me?" She lowered her sub to her plate, studying him with an intensity that made him want to head for his man cave.

Fuck, he was already in it.

And so was she.

"Sounded like you needed a break, from what you said last night."

She wrinkled her nose. "That was me being a self-pitying whiner and I have no idea why I told you all that stuff."

"It's good to offload sometimes. Especially to strangers."

He should know. He felt most comfortable with people he barely knew. Hated the intimacy and expectation that came with relationships of any kind.

"So this was a pity invite?"

He needed to say 'of course'. Needed to convince her that he wasn't so hot for her he could hardly see straight. But he saw the wariness in her eyes, like she expected him to kick her when she was down, and he couldn't do it.

He settled for a half-truth. "You intrigue me so that's why I invited you."

Bracing for her to interrogate him further, he sighed in relief when she picked up her sub again.

"I appreciate your honesty," she said, eyeballing him. "Not many guys are."

"You think we're all lying sacks of shit?"

"Mostly." She finished chewing another mouthful. "But you've got this look…"

Great. Here it came. The inevitable 'you look like a nice guy.' Far removed from what he wanted to be with her.

"Dare I ask?"

"You look…" She paused, studying him. "…Like you say what you mean and don't waste time spinning a load of crap."

Her lush mouth curved into a devastating smile that made the few mouthfuls of sub he'd eaten lodge in his gut like a stone. "That's why I accepted your invitation, because I knew you wouldn't have asked if you didn't want me here."

"That's some heavy shit," he said, stuffing his mouth with the sub to prevent from blurting how goddamn right she was.

The rest of the self-talk for the rationale behind his invite had been utter BS. She’d figured him out. He'd invited her to his sanctuary for the simple fact he wanted her here.

"You can handle it." She popped the last of the sub into her mouth and dusted off her fingers.

Maybe. What he couldn't handle was his unrelenting lust for her.

Wishing he could control his libido as easily as statistical data, he said, "What do you want to do after lunch?"

She pointed at the French doors leading from the sunroom to the back porch. "Lie out there with a book. Or fall asleep in that hammock."

It's what he usually did when he returned here on the too few occasions between jobs. Yet another point in her favor. "I thought you were bored? Don't you want to explore the town?"

She shrugged. "Seen one small town, seen them all. I'd rather relax." Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Besides, maybe the company I kept in Vegas bored me and now that I'm here with you…well, let's just say I'm getting less bored by the minute."

"I usually have the opposite effect on women." He gestured at the stack of computer magazines on the coffee table. "Spending time in my company leads to boredom, or so I've been told."

She made a cute
pfft
sound. "Those women were clueless."

"Thanks." He found himself grinning like an idiot before he demolished the remainder of his sub.

"You're welcome." She stood and snagged her beer. "If you're looking for me, I'll be out the back, where that hammock has my name on it."

"Enjoy." Wyatt chugged back his beer, surprised by how contented he felt, listening to the sounds of Ashlin rummaging around the spare room. Watching her pad barefoot across the back porch. Chuckling when it took her three attempts to settle into the hammock without falling on her ass.

He never experienced this type of contentment in the presence of another person. The only time he came close? Grappling and solving complex data problems.

He'd never been a people person.

Maybe letting Ashlin into his life could change all that?

"You know I'm never leaving, right?" Ashlin tucked her feet tighter beneath her, hoping Wyatt couldn't decipher how damn serious she was behind her flippant comment.

It hadn't been the relaxing afternoon spent dozing in the hammock, or the wood-fired pizzas they'd made together while standing side by side in his cozy kitchen, or the old black and white musical they'd watched while sitting within touching distance on the couch that made her want to stay.

Uh-uh, it was the guy who scooted closer, stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, and twisted a strand of her hair around his finger.

Wyatt made her feel at ease, at peace, in a way no one ever had.

She'd been pushing herself for as long as she could remember. First, as a way to prove herself after leaving home. Later, as a way to forget the tragedy that dogged her no matter how hard she tried to forget. She never had vacations. Or took days off. When she traveled, it was to further her career. And on her days off, she watched countless videos of choreographers around the world, honing her skills, inventing new routines.

She never relaxed. And certainly not in the company of a guy.

It made the last twelve hours all the more special. But now she faced the tough stuff. Extricating herself from Wyatt's guaranteed advances because she was too damaged to have sex no matter how much she wanted to.

"Stay as long as you like." His fingertips drifted across the back of her neck, a feather-light caress that made her shiver with longing. "It's good to take time out when you need it."

"I'd need a year's worth of down time to get my head back in the game," she said, wondering what it was about him that made her blurt the truth consistently.

"Want to talk about it?"

His fingers drifted from her neck to her scalp, lightly massaging and she bit back a moan.

"No. No talking…" she said, realizing too late what that sounded like a second before he covered her mouth with his.

God, the guy could kiss. Not too hard. Not too soft. Just right. A slow, sensuous devouring that made her melt into him. Her hands grabbed at his T-shirt, needing an anchor as her world tipped on its axis.

He cradled her head, changing the angle, deepening the kiss until she couldn't think of anything other than being on top of him, skin to skin.

She gripped his T-shirt harder and eased him down on the couch until she lay on top of him. His fingers slipped under her tank top. Unhooked her bra. His hands glided down her back. Cupped her butt. Ground her against him just enough. God, he felt big. And hard.

She couldn’t do this, no matter how much she wanted to try. She’d freeze up and disappoint him, and he’d been nothing but lovely to her.

Damn, she never should’ve let it get this far.

Her cue to run.

But before she could, Wyatt broke the kiss. "Hey, where did you go?"

"Huh?"

"One minute you were into us, the next you were gone." He tapped her temple gently. “Up here.”

"Damn you for being so perceptive." She pushed off him, instantly chilled at the loss of body heat. Or more precisely, the loss of him. Because there was nothing surer than him wanting to back off when she told him the partial truth. Something she'd have to do considering how far she'd let things get.

"What did I do?" He scrambled up, his expression a gut-wrenching mix of confusion and regret.

"Nothing, it's not you." She scurried to the furthest corner of the couch and hugged her knees to her chest. "I'm screwed up about sex."

A crease dented his forehead. "We were just making out. Doesn't have to lead to anything—"

"But I want it to for the first time in forever, because it's you and you're great and sweet and hot, but I can't, and it's so damn shitty…" she trailed off, unaware she'd been screeching until she saw him gaping at her. "Sorry, it's beyond frustrating."

If he said, 'sure, I understand,' she'd throw something at him. Because no one understood what she'd gone through and how it affected her ability to get physical. The counselor at the hospital had said her body would repair over time and she'd be able to resume intimate relations. But what about how badly it had screwed with her head?

"I want to help but I have no fucking clue how to." To his credit, Wyatt kept his distance. He didn't stare at her with pity, which would've undone her completely. Instead, he looked at her like he cared.

And that unlocked her heart a little more.

"I went through something major after I left home. It left me pretty screwed up sexually."

She glimpsed a flicker of horror in his wide eyes and rushed on, "I wasn't raped or abused or anything. But ever since, I don't enjoy sex."

His shoulders relaxed, his relief evident. "Feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up if this is too personal, but can you come?"

Shocked to her core that she’d revealed so much, she shook her head.

"Hmm…" Rather than stare at her, he looked off into space, as if contemplating some giant cosmic puzzle and for the first time in the last few minutes, she felt like laughing.

"What are you thinking?"

"Let me help." His gaze met hers and his sincerity blew her away. "Sure, I want to get in your pants. I mean, which guy wouldn't, you're that smoking hot. But maybe we leave the intercourse for later and concentrate on getting you off."

Wow. He wanted to
help
? His thoughtfulness blew her away. She’d imagined him running for the nearest bayou after she told him yet here he was, not judging her, not ridiculing her, but present in a way no guy had ever been.

But what shocked her the most? She actually trusted him enough to want to try.

"When you put it like that, how can a girl resist?"

He smiled at her dry response. "How many times have you had sex since that stuff in your past?"

Heat scorched her cheeks. "I've tried three times over the years but never made it past the kissing stage."

"Shit," he muttered, quickly masking his shock by rubbing a hand over his face.

"So there's no pressure on you or anything," she said, trying to alleviate the mood, touched and confused and hopeful by his offer to help her through this. "I'm frigid. You think you can help. Maybe we should give it a shot?"

He nodded, his expression still thoughtful. "Though I should warn you. I've been with a grand total of five women so I'm probably not the sex-god you expect."

His honesty made her want to hold him tight.

"Well, that's four people more than I've ever been with, so you'll have more of a clue than I will."

His open-mouthed shock was comical. "You've only been with one guy?"

She nodded. "So now you know everything."

Not quite everything, but she'd revealed enough secrets for one night.

He held out his hand and after several long drawn out moments, she took it. "Do you trust me?"

She bit back her first response of 'I barely know you'. Because she wouldn't have shared so much of herself if she didn't trust him and somewhere deep inside, on an instinctive level, she'd never felt so safe as she did with Wyatt.

"I trust you."

"Then let's take this one step at a time. Real slow." He squeezed her hand, before lifting it to his lips and brushing a soft kiss on the back. "You in?"

Ashlin had never let any guy get close since Dougal. Her first love. The guy who had changed her life and then left without looking back after what she'd done. She'd never been interested in intimacy since. Too painful, too emotionally draining, to confront the truth: that the decision she'd made back then had effectively ruined her chances of ever feeling close to anyone again.

But she'd told Wyatt some of the truth and he was still here. More astonishing, he was willing to help her work through some of her issues. She'd be a fool to say no.

She eyeballed the incredibly sensitive, understanding guy. "I’m in all the way."

After Ashlin's big revelation, Wyatt poured them a double shot of brandy. Alcohol would help ease the jitters. It had to.

What the fuck was he thinking, volunteering to help a woman he barely knew explore her sexuality like he was some kind of frigging expert?

Shit, this stuff was more up Kurt's alley. Then again, Kurt would've walked away so fast from Ashlin after her admission that her head would've spun.

Exactly what he should've done.

He'd never been chivalrous or tuned in to women before. Thanks to an extensive repertoire of porn in his late teens, he'd figured out how to get the business done with a woman, ensuring they were both happy. But five sexual encounters did not a Romeo make and he had no fucking clue why he'd offered to help Ashlin through this.

But then she flashed him a tentative smile over the rim of her brandy balloon and something unexpected twanged in his chest, giving him enough of a clue as to why.

He liked her.

Really liked her.

She was different from the other women he'd been with. A tough outer core hiding a flawed, vulnerable woman. The kind of woman who reached to him on a deeper level than he could fathom.

Emotions were alien to him. He didn’t love. He liked things. Liked his job, his brother, his new half-brothers, his house. He might even like his parents, despite the shitty job they'd done with him. But he'd never felt anything beyond like. Never a deep connection that signaled a possible undoing of his neat, factual world.