Moore To Love (27 page)

“THE HELL YOU SHOULD!” I
blurt it out like a woman scorned . . .
and
left high and dry.

Lane is quick to ignore my outburst and he hasn’t fled yet, so that’s one point for the home team.

I join him at the head of the bed, scooting closer but not
too
close. Apparently the more I throw myself at him the more he retreats. I’m beginning to think I have cooties or a bad case of BO. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I whisper, careful not to let my true emotions—rage, rejection, remorse—come shining through.

“Nothing. Forget it. I’m just . . . tired.”

Sullen much?
He sounds like a middle-aged housewife making excuses not to get down and dirty. I want to reach over and shake him by his muscular shoulders because if that’s not the brush off of the century, I’m not sure what is. If anything can come of this could-be relationship with Lane, he’ll have to start peeling away those thick layers so I can get to know him for more than the cute, sweet guy who saved me from the big, bad tree.

“Lane, you can talk to me about anything.” I look down through hooded lids, arranging the duvet so it covers my exposed nooks and crannies. Before I can tell my inner sex goddess to pour herself a nice warm glass of shut the hell up, Lane’s eyes find mine. They’re a less lively shade of green than I’m used to. “Is it me? Do I not do it for you?” I can’t figure out what has Lane so averse to slipping into the sheets with me. The only logical solution is that he doesn’t find me physically attractive. Sure, it’s easy to promise things over texts or phone calls, but it might very well be that once he actually
sees
me—every last curvy ounce of
me—the blood doesn’t pump to the right places the way it should. At the harrowing realization, I bring my hands up to my eyes as if that can shield me from the truth.

“Oh, no,” Lane interrupts my self-loathing before I have the chance to vocalize my thoughts. “This has nothing to do with you, Leni. I know what you’re thinking, but you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all me.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? Every time we get close to being together, you freeze up. It’s okay if you’re not sexually attracted to me. I’ll understand.” I won’t understand. I mean, I’ll have to, but I really won’t be okay with a letdown like this.
Rocky Road, I’m coming for you!

Strong hands grasp my wrists, pulling my splayed hands from my eyes. “Look at me,” Lane orders.

But I don’t open my eyes. I’m not ready to face this. A few minutes ago I was certain this man and I had something special blooming, now all hope is lost. I know intimacy isn’t everything in a relationship but I’ve waited forever to feel wanted the way I thought Lane wanted me; the way Hudson had no issue wanting me.

Wait!

Hudson!

My eyes pop open. “Does this have anything to do with him?”

“Who?” It’s a faint whisper, as if he can toss it under the bed and leave it unnoticed.

“Oh no, you don’t! Don’t play shy. I’m sitting next to you, practically down to my birthday suit, willing, able, panting, and almost begging. If I can do
this
, you can find the balls to tell me if Hudson has anything to do with why you stopped.”

Lane blanches at my frankness, but I don’t care. I want answers, not assumptions. We all know that old saying about those pesky things . . . and
I
already feel very much like a big ol’ ass.

“Of course it does, Leni.” He jumps out of the bed and starts to pace around my bedroom. “If Hudson Blackman is the kind of guy you’re used to, how am I supposed to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the hell up.” Without so much as a thought to how he knows Hudson’s last name when I never caught it or to how little I’m wearing, I toss the blanket off and follow Lane in his march around the perimeter of my bed. “The kind of guy I’m used to? I’m not used to
any
kind of guy. I told you that!”

“You said the two of you hooked up. That means you’ve slept with him, no?”

“Yes! Once. And if you’re looking for my entire sexual history, before my extremely inconsequential one-night-stand with Hudson, there was a guy named Tony that I was seeing for all of two seconds until he decided his fat ass was too good for
my
fat ass. And before Tony there was Alex from college, and that’s a story for another day of humiliation. But why does any of that matter? And how do you know Hudson’s last name? I thought you liked
me
. You know I like
you
. So, before I jump to any more ridiculous conclusions can you
please
tell me what the hell your major malfunction is, dude, because I simply do not
comprende
!” I’m out of breath and completely void of reasons why Lane is so hell bent on the Hudson thing. I haven’t been with enough guys to know how they tick, but Lane’s acting more like an insecure girl than the adorable, athletic, appealing man I met at the park.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t know that
the
Hudson Blackman is trying to woo
my
girl?”

The?
As in, important? “What are you talking about, Lane? He’s just some random guy I met at a bar. Am I missing something?”

He plops back onto the bed and let’s out a huffy laugh laced with contempt. “Hudson Blackman is the sole heir to his land developing tycoon grandfather, Ronald Blackman’s fortune. You really didn’t know this?”

“Are you calling me a gold digger?” I mean, of course I didn’t know. If I had, I might have actually returned Hudson’s calls.
Tycoon? Fortune?
Damn! I should’ve cashed in before I sent him away with his silver spoon between his legs. But I digress, and that totally negates my rejection of Lane’s claim. “Never mind that. The better question is how do
you
know this?”

“Uh, I read the newspaper.”

“Great. So now I’m a gold digger
and
a dumbass. Nice, Lane. This is going oh, so well.”

Lane shakes his head and raises his hands before him. “Would you just let me finish?” His tone is clipped.

“First fight before the first fuck. We’re batting a thousand.” Yeah, I’m flippant, but I was promised one thing and wound up with something totally different—including a handful of bogus insults.

“Leni.” Lane rises and begins pacing again. “I only brought it up because I really like you and the idea of dating you while one of the city’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelors is also in the running . . . I’m not into competition, and I don’t have a private jet to take you to and from our dates.”

Okay. Now I kinda get it. Lane feels inferior to Hudson. There’s a word I’ve gotten to know on a first name basis. Any insecurity is a curse, so I can totally relate to Lane’s issue with Hudson, but he has to know I would never compare them. Even though the esteemed heir’s eligibility, his good looks, and his heaping pile of dough might sound like something to compete against—they’re not. This newfound info about
the
Hudson Blackman doesn’t change how I feel about Lane. I need to make him see his.

Lane rests at the window, looking out to the busy street below. I come up behind him—keeping my distance as not to scare off the timid lamb I once thought was a rugged lion. Funny, because that alone should turn me off. But it doesn’t. It intrigues me. There are so many sides to Lane Sheffield I’ve yet to discover because I was too busy trying to get in his pants.
Note to self: get more of a background on the men you sleep with
before
you actually set to screwing them.

Placing my hands on the shoulders of the man who charmed my mind, body, and soul in the short amount of time I’ve known him, I urge him to face me. I should be pissed, hurt, utterly baffled, but I’m not. I’m apologetic for trying to move things faster than necessary. That whole idiom about putting the cart before the horse makes so much sense now. “I’m sorry, Lane.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, his mouth dangling open like a guppy. “Are you seriously apologizing to me? Leni, you should be kicking me out for acting like such a pussy.”

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me, but rather than make this more awkward than it already is, I choose humor—it always prevails. “Yes, I’m apologizing for being hasty and not getting to know more about
you
before I tried to get to know
him
.” I point to his groin and his eyes follow my line of sight. He gives his junk a quick pat and then returns his gaze to me with a boyish grin.

“You’re something else, you know that? I shouldn’t have reacted that way about Blackman. Who you’ve spent your time with in the past is none of my business.”

Lane rests against the window sill and I nestle between his legs, wrapping my arms around his neck. We stare into each other’s eyes in silence. Recognizing his lack of self confidence with this whole situation, I tilt my head and pout. “How about we make a new promise to each other?”

Lane clips my chin between two deft fingers and smiles. “What’s that, gorgeous?”

“Well, two, okay?”

Lane nods and waits for me to speak.

“Number one, no more Hudson talk. Rich, poor, handsome, or homely, I don’t want
him
. I want
you
.”

“Deal.” I’m glad he doesn’t elaborate. There’s no need to question it. I’m sure, so he should be, too.

“Good.”

“What’s number two?” he asks, his nerves seemingly less frayed than before.

I’m not gonna lie; it totally pains me to say this because I want more than anything to take this relationship to the next level. But seeing firsthand that Lane has obvious insecurities, it’s time to steer things in a direction other than south of the waistline.

“How about we forget about sex for a while and just get to know each other better?”

Lane’s eyes light up—the dull green from earlier revived with a livelier shade of sparkling emerald. “You mean—you’re not pissed? I haven’t totally screwed this up?”

“Oh, you didn’t screw anything. Let’s get that straight.”

“Ha, ha, ha. You’re such a smartass.” That earns me a playful tap on my already heated cheek.

“And proud of it. You think you can handle that?”

“I know I can. The question is, how much longer are we talking, here?” He leans in, grazing his lips against my jawline and then nibbles at my earlobe. His tender touch causes all rational thought to fly out the window.

“Hey!” I back away, leaving Lane with a sinful gleam in his darkened eyes. “You’re the one with the giant red stop sign in his hands,” I remind him to make sure he knows where I stand. “Wait. Don’t wait. I’m cool with whatever, but I’m definitely not okay with mixed signals. So, decide.”

Lane growls, obviously frustrated. “I guess seeing Blackman here messed with my mojo. I think we need a do over.”

“Then a do over it is. There’s more to a relationship than sex, even if I’m pretty sure I could’ve rocked your world tonight.”

Lane circles his arms around my waist and returns his warm lips to my ear. His embrace is a perfect combo of friendly and passionate, and it feels just right.

Except for the chilly draft wafting itself around my thonged ass.

“Um, Lane.” I mumble into his neck, where I can feel his quickening pulse.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I think I’m gonna change into a pair of comfy sweats.”

He takes a step back and examines me once again. His dimples appear when he smiles and licks his lips. “I’m such as ass. I can’t believe I’m about to pass this up.”

I make my way to my dresser to grab a pair of pants. Closing the drawer with my hip, I assure him, “You’re not passing it up, just putting it aside for a better day.” It’s the only way I can look at it without wanting to slap that sexy grin off his even sexier face.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.” I wink and head for the bathroom. “I’ll be right out.”

“Hey? You think I can I raid your fridge while I wait? I’m suddenly starved.”

Yeah, so am I, but not for food.
Rather than dwell on my hunger, I give in, “Have at it, but there’s not much there. I was gone a week, remember?”

Lane laughs, ignoring my obvious jibe. “How about I order some take-out? Pizza? Chinese? Burgers?”

“Um . . . again, I was away all week. I think I should stick to something diet friendly if I ever plan on wearing this sexy contraption again. You know, for when the time is right.”

His eyes wander, taking in what he’s decided to leave untouched for the time being. I can sense a glint of regret, and that’s more than enough to show me it won’t be this way forever. “Leni, tonight calls for comfort food. We can go back to working out tomorrow. I promise—and this one I’ll keep.” He crosses his heart with his index finger, holding his other hand up in honor of his vow.

My insides melt into gooey goodness at the innocence Lane possesses. “You’re a hard man to say no to. What am I going to do about that?”

He rushes over to me and pulls me close. Lips on lips, nose to nose, fingers tangled with fingers, Lane embraces me again and says, “Just keep saying yes. That’s all I ask.”