Trevor pried his eyes open and watched Kylie raise her hips toward the ceiling and tug her sweats up. A minute ago, he’d come so hard he still couldn’t feel his extremities, yet somehow she’d gathered the energy to squirm out from under his dead weight and start pulling on clothes.
Luckily, there was nothing wrong with his hearing, so he had a fairly good idea what fueled her sudden need to escape. In the throes of her orgasm, she’d definitely called out, “I love you. I love you. Oh, God, Trevor. I love you.” Whether she realized what she’d said remained to be seen, but the emotional epiphany alone clearly tripped her panic switch.
He rolled to his side and grabbed some tissue from the box on the nightstand, did some housekeeping below deck, and pitched the tissue-wrapped condom into the trash. Then he turned to watch Kylie. “What’s your hurry?”
She shrugged, still not looking at him, and repaired her ponytail. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome. I know I showed up unannounced and hijacked your evening. I should leave now and get out of your way.”
“Stay.” He didn’t dare add another word, or next thing he knew, he’d be begging. This already sounded too much like a repeat of last night. Asking her to stay with him and having her toss the invitation back in his face was not a habit he intended to develop.
She shook her head, sending the ponytail back to square one, and gave a frustrated little sound. “I’ve got to go. I have things to accomplish. I can’t just…languish here indefinitely.”
Several replies sprang to mind, all of which would likely kick off a conversation that hastened a final break. You really want to push this?
Apparently he did. Sleeping with her whenever she showed up on his doorstep, silently hoping for more than she might ever willingly offer, struck him as a pathetic way to spend time with the woman he loved. With a hand to her shoulder, he turned her until she faced him.
“Is that what you’re afraid would happen if you let yourself acknowledge what you feel for me? You’d lose sight of the things you want to accomplish?”
“Look, Trevor,” she began slowly, carefully, like someone stepping into a minefield. “We’re attracted to each other. We enjoy each other physically. End of story. Why can’t we leave it at that?” She threw the question out in a calm, rational tone, but he saw the terror in her eyes.
“A minute ago you screamed you loved me at damn near the top of your lungs. Call me sensitive, but I find that pretty hard to brush aside.”
That spooked her. She couldn’t have jumped off the bed faster if he’d touched her with a live wire. “I’m not ignoring my emotions.” She swatted that contention away with an impatient hand. “But I’m also not a slave to them. They’re transitory…unreliable. I’m not my mother, for God’s sake.” Now she started to pace. “She gets hopelessly lost in every fleeting passion, and you know what? Those roads always lead her back to exactly where she started—absolutely nowhere.”
“Why does the road always have to lead nowhere?” He kept his voice quiet, though his emotions were anything but. “Maybe sometimes it leads to happiness, and fulfillment?”
She shook her head and continued to pace. “It never does. Not for my mom. Not for anyone I know. Believe me, I’ve watched.”
“That’s one thing I noticed about you right from the start. You’re observant. But Kylie, you can’t always rely on your limited, firsthand observations to define the realm of possibilities. How do you explain my parents, happily married for thirty-two years come October?”
“They’re the exception that proves the rule.”
God, she was stubborn. For some crazy reason, it had him fighting a smile.
“What rule?”
“Excuse me?”
“If people like my folks are the exception, what’s the rule? I’d like to know.”
“Fine. I’ll call it Stacy’s rule. Enjoy the moment, have some mind-blowing sex, and leave the candlelight and roses for fairy tales.”
“That’s Stacy’s rule?”
“In a nutshell.”
“Seems to me even Stacy’s not playing by her own rule anymore, considering she prepared a special dinner for Ian tonight—involving candlelight and roses, I believe you said. Tell me, did she seem happy?”
“Well, sure, she—”
“Why didn’t you talk some sense into her?”
Flashing blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t begrudge Stacy happiness.”
“Of course not,” he quickly agreed, “which is why I figure you’d want to remind her about the rule, and warn her she’s walking a road that always leads nowhere. Especially for those two, right? I mean, she’s a stripper.” He shook his head. “What’s Ian thinking?”
“Maybe he’s thinking she’s fun, talented, and interesting,” she challenged, unwittingly rising to his bait by leaping to the defense of her twin.
“I’m sure she’s all those things. But Ian’s a cop. Probably too straig