Come Home to Me. Brenda Novak
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hers.
“It’s been a long time,” he whispered.
All the bones in Presley’s body felt as if they’d dissolved on contact. But she refused to lose this battle; she wanted to be tough, defiant, unmoved. “I’m not interested.”
The warmth of his breath fanned her face as his lips moved over hers again. “You’re interested, all right.”
Her body tingled as the memories returned—Aaron naked above her, Aaron suckling her breast, Aaron hooking his arms under her knees as he drove inside her. “How can you tell?” she asked, but she shouldn’t have spoken. The quaver in her voice only confirmed his words.
He buried his nose in her neck and took a deep breath. Then he put his mouth on the tender skin there, but she stopped him before he could leave a mark. “I can taste it on you,” he said. “I can even smell it.”
She swallowed hard. “So? I can tell you want me, too.” The truth was apparent; she could feel his arousal against her abdomen.
“I’m not the one trying to deny it.”
Her mouth watered for a deeper kiss so she could obtain some satisfaction. But he kept his mouth a fraction of an inch away and didn’t move his hands to any of the places that were throbbing in anticipation.
“We had fun,” he said. “There’s no reason it couldn’t be like that again.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”
“Fine.” A second later, he let go of her and recovered his pie.
“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked.
A devilish grin slanted his lips to one side. “You had your chance. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Presley stayed where she was, gripping what had been built of the receptionist’s desk as his steps receded. Not until he was gone did she remember her conversation with Cheyenne. Her sister was going to ask him to donate sperm so she could have a baby. Presley had planned to prepare him, to give him some advance warning so he could think about how he wanted to respond. It wouldn’t be an easy decision. While she wanted her sister to have a baby, she also wanted Aaron to be sure he was willing to play a role.
She’d gotten too distracted to mention it, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Not right now. Although she’d survived their encounter, her confidence was badly shaken. If he hadn’t stopped touching her, if he’d slid his hand up her shirt instead of letting go, would she have been able to deny him?
Chances were, she would’ve dragged him into the back room and showed off her sexy underwear. She knew how much he liked lace panties—and she knew she’d never looked better in them, which certainly wasn’t helping. She felt she finally had the kind of body he could admire, so vanity was working against her, too. That was the downside to the improvements she’d made. While they boosted her self-esteem, they didn’t do a lot for her resistance.
“You have no willpower,” she muttered. “Not when it comes to Aaron.”
She needed to stay away from him in the future—and pray he left for Reno soon.
* * *
Damn it! What the hell was he doing? He’d received Presley’s forgiveness, knew she didn’t hold anything against him. He had her pie in his passenger seat to prove it. So why had he stirred up those dying embers? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?
Because he’d missed her. And he still wanted her. Although he’d slept with several women since her, none of them had brought him the same level of fun, comfort or satisfaction.
But why would he do anything to threaten her chance of catching a great guy like Riley—someone who, if he married her, would treat her like a queen?
What she’d said was true. That night when he first approached her at Sexy Sadie’s, he’d simply been trying to include a lonely woman, someone he’d seen around town for several years but who’d never quite fit in. Thanks to her mother, she was so battle-scarred that she made most people uncomfortable. But he could relate to someone who elicited distrust and hesitation. He had his own detractors, and there’d been a time when his circumstances weren’t a whole lot better.
She didn’t need him anymore, though; she’d said as much. He should be glad she was doing so well on her own. Instead, he was screwing with her head because she was screwing with his and she wasn’t even trying. She was giving him what he’d always assumed he wanted—for her to be happy and strong and less needy, less clingy. There’d been times when he’d thought he’d suffocate beneath her adoration. So why did he suddenly feel bereft now that she’d decided she was done with him?
She’d gone too far. Did she have to cut him off completely? He could understand if she had someone else in her life, but she didn’t.
“It’s confusing,” he told himself. Somehow it had been easier to move on when she wasn’t around, easier to make himself believe he wasn’t missing out on anything. Seeing her again, especially seeing her looking so healthy, reminded him of the details that made her unique, all the little things he’d pushed into the back of his mind. Her laugh. Her quirky sense of humor. The way she could roll with the ups and downs of life without growing bitter. Even some of her insecurities were endearing because she was so damn honest about them. He’d spent more time with her than any other woman....
He turned up the radio, hoping the pounding of his subwoofer would soothe his restlessness, or at least distract him. He didn’t like the way he was feeling. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy, but he was pretty sure that was the emotion picturing her with Riley evoked.
Are you going to date him?
I think so.
Why wouldn’t she? Riley was universally admired. After college, he’d started his own contracting business, which was successful, of course. He’d never been picked up by the police, never gotten into a fight, never been thrown out of a bar. He’d messed up by getting a girl pregnant back in high school—not the best girl to put in such a vulnerable position, as it turned out—but he’d redeemed himself by raising the child and proving to be a devoted father.
“Forget Presley,” Aaron grumbled. “You won’t be living here much longer, anyway.”
But it was impossible to forget her when he could smell the pie she’d baked. So instead of going home, he drove to Jackson and went to a drive-through to get a plastic fork. Then he pulled over and dug into the pie. He was determined to eat as much of it as he wanted before his brothers got hold of it. After all, he was the one who’d spent his entire day painting, and he’d done a damn fine job, too. He deserved some of the most delicious pie he’d ever tasted, since he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted from Presley....
He was jamming another bite into his mouth when his cell phone vibrated against his leg. He thought it might be one of his brothers, or maybe one of his friends wanting to head out for a drink. It was Saturday night, after all. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual weekend revelry, but what good was it going to do him to sit around by himself?
Straightening his leg so he could get his phone out of his pocket, he checked caller ID. The number wasn’t in his contacts.
“’Lo?”
“Aaron?”
Noelle. Recognizing her voice, he turned down the radio. Music blared in the background as it was. Where was she? Sexy Sadie’s? “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
He swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Eating.”
“You could do that here with me. I’ve got a plate of wings, and a seat with your name on it.”
He didn’t ask where “here” was. “How’d you get my number?” Sometimes they hooked up if they bumped into each other, but those occasions were few and far between, and he’d been careful not to