She blinked water from her eyes and swiped a hand over her face. He lurched down to his knees and plucked the glasses out of her lap. After setting them on the floor, he ripped his shirt off and dabbed at her face.
“I’m so sorry, Erica. I didn’t hear you coming.”
He dried the moisture from her cheeks, then patted her neck dry. Her soft skin underneath his hands made his fingers shake. He nearly forgot how to breathe, and made himself focus on catching every hint of water glistening on her smooth, touchable skin.
She gripped his forearms. “It’s fine. You don’t have to.”
He paused—yet she wasn’t what stopped him. The only thing left to dry was her chest. His eyes dipped down, past her neckline, lingering on a single diamond drop of water against the soft swell of her br**sts. Her sharp intake of breath made them rise. Heat flushed his face, and he jerked his gaze to hers.
She stared at him, rosettes blooming in her cheeks. Something in her gaze drew him. Lured him. Coaxed him to do something he never thought he’d have the courage to try. It wasn’t mere desire. It was a compulsion, ingrained so deep he couldn’t possibly resist.
He leaned in. Neither spoke; his blood pumped, his pulse loud between them. Her lips parted, and he paused a mere breath away. Waiting. Giving her a chance to deny him, and refuse him the one thing he’d wanted for more than half his life.
Her.
Yet her eyes slipped closed, and the slight tilt of her chin was the only answer he needed. He pressed his lips to hers, gentle and so very careful, and cradled the curve of her cheek in his palm.
She sighed against his lips. He watched her with hypnotized intensity as he worshipped her mouth; her blush darkened, her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and as he teased at her lips she opened for him, enticing him to explore, to press deeper, to take her as his own.
Her tongue touched his, and he groaned. Just a slant of his head, a little more pressure, and their lips fit together perfectly. He curled his hands against her waist—but as soon as his fingers touched the curve of her hips, she stiffened and pulled away.
Sucking in a deep breath, she jerked back. Away from him. Pain sliced through him. Of course. Maybe she’d forgotten who she was kissing, for a moment. No doubt she was horrified with herself, now. Sickened.
He never should have kissed her.
He stood and, reaching down, pulled her to her feet. He let her go as soon as she was steady, shoved his hands in his pockets, and muttered, “You should go change.”
Her lips were deliciously swollen. He lingered on them—especially when she avoided his eyes. Great. She couldn’t even stand to look at him. Was she so ashamed of kissing someone who was barely scum in comparison to her?
“Um, yeah.” Her voice sounded hollow. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She took a shuddering breath and finally looked at him, her eyes guarded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“You’re sorry? I’m not.”
He stepped closer and ran a finger down her cheek. She shivered. He smiled with grim satisfaction, even if he felt more like screaming. No matter her shame, she wanted him. It was in every tremor of her lips, even if her gaze was still wholly closed to him. Even with the suspiciously damp sheen in her eyes, her feelings remained entirely masked.
“I want you, Erica,” he said. “I always have. Nothing has changed for me.”
She hugged his soaked shirt to her chest and bit down on her lip, as if stopping its quiver could hide her upset from him. “I—we can’t. I’m not…I…it’s just not possible.”
“It’s very possible,” he said. “And if you expect me to feel sorry for finally managing to kiss you, forget it. I want more than that kiss. Much more.”
She drew in a shaky breath and backed away. “We barely know each other anymore, and I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Is that what you think I want?” Anger made him bold. “I know you. I know what you do and don’t do. I know I want so much more from you—so much that one kiss just made me need you all over again, even if I don’t know if you hate me or just want to know what I’d be like in bed. God, here I am with stars in my eyes…and you think I want a one-night stand.” His jaw clenched. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know me as well as I’d thought.”
Her teeth sank into her lip so hard he thought she’d break skin. “That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” he said. If life was fair, he wouldn’t be in this position yet a-fucking-gain, hoping the princess would look down from her ivory tower and notice him. “Get used to it.”
“You’re being childish,” she said, jaw tight.
He stepped back. “Maybe I am.”
She drew breath to speak, making her chest heave. His eyes dropped to her soaking wet tank top. Her white tank top. His gaze lingered on her br**sts, and the clearly visible pink bra cupping them. He nearly forgot his anger. Need took its place. Need to take her into his arms, carry her up the stairs—
“Enough,” she blurted. He jerked his eyes back to her face, where they belonged. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks so red they looked bruised. “This discussion’s over. I’m going to get cleaned up. Stay here.”
He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t,” she said, and turned away with a toss of her hair. “Don’t make this worse by being flip. I want to be friends, Jeremy.”
She ran up the stairs. He clenched his fists. Frustration scored through him.
“Sure,” he grit out. “Friends.”
He watched her until she disappeared. Friends. What a f**king joke. Tommy and Erica were the only friends he’d ever had. The only friends who’d ever seen through his bad-boy act, who understood that he wasn’t his father, and wouldn’t repeat his father’s mistakes. The only people who forgave him for his screw-ups. The only people who let him be a normal, flawed human being.
And he still wasn’t good enough for even them. Not good enough to trust, and not good enough to love.
That hurt more than any fight, any bullet wound, any loss. Erica had lost faith in him seven years ago. So why had she kissed him? Regret? Did she ever think back to that night, and wish it had happened differently? God, he hoped she did.
Because damn him, he couldn’t think about anything else.
Chapter Three
Erica woke to morning sunlight, blurry eyes, and one hell of a headache. Probably the least remarkable phenomenon in Vegas. At least other people could claim it was from a wild night of alcohol and sex.