"Now there's a surprise."
She smiled and disconcerted him by moving closer. "I didn't like you because I started wanting you the first minute. That was uncomfortable for me. You see, I prefer wanting things that are tangible and that can be acquired through time, planning, and effort. I don't like being uncomfortable, or wanting someone I don't understand, who is in all probability bad for me, and who doesn't fit my requirements."
"You have requirements too?" He didn't care for the sensation of being annoyed and aroused at the same time.
"Absolutely. One of the main requirements is a lack of demand. I don't think you're an undemanding man, and that's, undoubtedly, going to be my biggest mistake. One of the other things I really, really hate to do is make mistakes. But I'm working on being more tolerant of myself."
"Is that something else you're practicing, like doing nothing?"
"Exactly."
"I see. Well, now that we've established that this fledgling relationship with me is practice for your personal tolerance, I'll start dinner."
She laughed and put her other hand on his chest. "I irritate you. I don't know why I find that so funny."
"It doesn't surprise me, Katherine. You have an abrasive, contrary nature and like nothing better than stirring things up."
"You're right, absolutely right. It's terrifying how easily you understand me. And the more patient you are, the more compelled I am to poke at you. We are so completely wrong for each other, Byron."
"Who's arguing?" He curled his fingers around her wrists, intent on pushing her hands aside.
"Take me to bed," she said simply, and slid her hands through his loosened grip to his shoulders. "Now."
Chapter Twelve
Contents - Prev | Next
He wasn't easily shocked. But her simple demand rocked him back as efficiently as a short left jab. He'd been sure she was ending what had barely begun between them. He'd been prepared to be coldly furious, but to school himself into not giving a damn.
Because it was undoubtedly unwise to touch her, he kept his arms at his sides. "You want me to take you to bed, now, because it's a mistake, because you've theorized that I'm bad for you, and because we're completely wrong for each other."
"Yes. And because I want to see you naked."
He managed a laugh, and would have stepped back, but she locked her hands at the back of his neck. "I think I need a drink," he muttered.
"Byron, don't make me get rough with you." She moved in, her body bumping his, her arms tightening. "I've been working out. Sort of. I think I could take you if I had to."
Telling himself to be amused, he pinched her biceps gently.
The tiny muscle gave like putty. "Yeah, you're a regular Amazon, honey."
"You want me." She nipped her way up his throat. "If you don't, I'll have to kill you."
The little blood left in his head shot straight to his loins. "I think my life's safe. Kate—" Her hands raced busily to the snap of his jeans. "Don't—Christ!" And tugged at his zipper. "Hell," he muttered, and gave in to the animal long enough to savage her mouth with his.
She made a sound in her throat like a cat purring over prey.
"Hold on." He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. "Just hold on one damn minute." He panted out a breath, then another. "You know the trouble with flings?"
"No, what's the trouble with them?"
"I'm trying to remember." He wanted to rub his hands over his face, but he didn't dare release her. "Okay, I've got it. However momentarily satisfying they are, you end up dissatisfied. That's not the way it's going to be here. This isn't going to be a fling. You're going to have to accept that."
What was wrong with him? she wondered. Men weren't supposed to complicate sex. "Fine, we'll call it something else."
"There are strings, Kate." His hands still on her shoulders, he began slowly backing her toward the house. He could already see her naked and gleaming. "Trust. Honesty. Affection. Once I touch you, no one touches you but me."
"They're not exactly lined up around the block waiting to get their hands on me." Her feet bumped into the steps. Automatically, she stepped up, back again. He was looking at her in that way that made her both nervous and eager. As if he were looking beyond, to what no one else had seen, even herself. "I don't sleep around."