Whiskey Beach Part 35

Hoping to calm it, she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm not afraid of you, Eli."

"You don't know me."

"Which would be part of my point. I'd like to know you before I get in any deeper. Anyway, I don't have to know you, the way you mean, to have a sense of you or to be attracted. I don't think you're a nice harmless teddy bear any more than I think you're a cold-blooded killer. There's a lot of anger under the sad, and I don't blame you for it. In fact, I understand it. Exactly."

He s.h.i.+fted back, and his hands found his pockets. Self-denial, she thought, because she knew when a man wanted to touch her. And he did.

"I'm not looking to be attracted to you or involved with you. Or anyone."

"Believe me, I get that. I felt exactly the same way before I met you. It's why I've been on a s.e.xual fast."

His eyebrows drew in. "A what?"

"I've been fasting from s.e.x. Which could be another reason I'm attracted. Fasts have to come to an end sometime, and here you are. New, good-looking, intriguing and clever when you forget to brood. And you need me."

"I don't need you."

"Oh, bulls.h.i.+t. Just bulls.h.i.+t." The quick flash of temper caught him off guard, as did the light shove. "There's food in this house because I put it there, and you're eating it because I fix it for you. You've already put on a few pounds, and you're losing that gaunt look in your face. You have clean socks because I wash them, and you have someone who listens when you talk, which you occasionally do without me using verbal crowbars to open you up. You have someone who believes in you, and everyone needs that."

She stalked over, grabbed her purse, then slammed it down again. "Do you think you're the only one who's ever gone through something horrible, something out of their control? The only one who's been damaged and had to learn to heal, to rebuild a life? You can't rebuild a life by building barriers. They don't keep you safe, Eli. They just keep you alone."

"Alone works for me," he snapped back.

"Just more bulls.h.i.+t. Some alone, some s.p.a.ce, sure. Most of us need it. But we need human contact, connections, relations.h.i.+ps. We need all of it because we're human. I saw the way you looked when you recognized Maureen on the beach that day. Happy. She's a connection. So am I. You need that as much as you need to eat and drink and work and have s.e.x and sleep. So I make sure you have food and I stock water and juice and Mountain Dew because you like it, and I make sure you have clean sheets to sleep on. Don't tell me you don't need me."

"You left out the s.e.x."

"That's negotiable."

She believed in instinct, so went with it. She simply stepped forward, grabbed his face in both hands and planted her lips on his. Not s.e.xual, she thought, as much as elemental. Just human contact.

Whatever it stirred in her, she was fine with it. She liked feeling.

She stepped back, leaving her hands where they were for another moment. "There, that didn't kill you. You're human, you're reasonably healthy, you're-"

It wasn't instinct, but reaction. She'd flipped the switch so he grabbed on and plunged into the blast of light.

And her.

He yanked her around, trapping her between his body and the kitchen island. And gripping her hair-that ma.s.s of wild curls-wrapped it around his hand.

He felt her hands once again press to his face, felt her lips part under his, felt her heart slam against his.

He felt.

The pulsing in the blood, the ache of awakening need, the sheer grinding glory of having a woman caught against him.

Warm, soft, curves and angles.

The smell of her, the sound of surprised pleasure in her throat, the slide of lips and tongues slammed into him like a tsunami. And for now, for this one moment, he wanted to just be swept away.

She slid her hands into his hair, and her own need spiked when he lifted her off her feet. She found herself on the counter, legs spread as he pressed between them, and a white-hot, glorious l.u.s.t bursting in her center.

She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist so they could both just ride, just ride-hot and hard. But once again instinct took over.

No, not without thought, she warned herself. Not without heart. They'd both be sorry for that in the end.

So she laid her hands on his face, yet again, stroked his cheeks as she drew back.

His eyes, fierce blue heat, stared into hers. In them she saw some of that anger she'd recognized under l.u.s.t.

"Well. You're alive, and more than reasonably healthy from where I'm sitting."

"I'm not sorry for that."

"Who asked for an apology? I pushed the b.u.t.tons, didn't I? I'm not sorry either. Except for the fact I have to go."

"Go?"

"I have to change into that short skirt and get to work, and I'm already running a little behind. The good news is that gives us both time to consider if we want to take the next natural step. That's also the bad news."

She slid off the counter onto her feet, heaved out a breath. "You're the first man who's tempted me to break my fast in a long time. The first one I think would make the fast and the breaking of it worthwhile. I just need to know we wouldn't be mad at each other if I did. Something to consider."

She picked up her purse, started out. "Come out tonight, Eli. Come into the pub, listen to some music, see some people, have a couple beers. First round's on me."

She walked out, made it all the way to her car before she pressed a hand to her fluttering belly, let out a long, unsteady breath.

If he'd touched her again, if he'd asked her not to go ... she'd have been very late for work.

CHAPTER Ten

ELI ARGUED WITH HIMSELF, WEIGHED THE PROS, THE CONS, his own temperament. In the end he justified going to the d.a.m.n bar because he hadn't gotten out of the house for his self-imposed hour that day. This would serve as his hour.

He'd check out what the newish owners had done, have a beer, listen to a little music, then go home.

And maybe Abra would get off his back.

And if under it he proved to himself as much as to her he could walk into the village bar, have a beer, with no problem, so much the better.

He liked bars, he reminded himself. He liked the atmosphere, the characters, the conversations, the companions.h.i.+p of having a cold one in company.

Or he had.