Page 59 of Totally Off Limits

Why did he have to go and say theL word?

It left her speechless—and she didn’t know why. Was it because hearing Mickey say that phrase to her and about her made her feel more special than she’d ever felt in her life?

Or…?

More likely, she knew deep down, it was because he couldn’t. Heshouldn’t. Like Romeo and Juliet, theirs was a love that, if requited, could only end in tragedy.

But she couldn’t feign deafness—and she couldn’t ignore it. So she decided to just blow it off. Shaking her head before resting it back on his chest, she said, “That’s the orgasm talking.”

“You don’t really think that, do you?”

Lifting her head again, realizing she needed to nip this shit in the bud now, she looked him in the eyes. “Let’s see what you say in the morning.”

Instead, his face softened even further. “You saying you want me to spend the night?”

Shit.“No, that’snotwhat I said. But in the cold light of day, when you’re ruled by your head instead of the chemicals racing through your veins, sometimes you’ll look at things differently. At least that’s the way it is with me.”

The gentle happy expression on his face faded some but not completely. And Sierra didn’t want to wipe it completely off because she really did care for this sweet, beautiful man. Just because they were fated to not spend their lives together didn’t give her license to eviscerate him. “Maybe, Sierra Hayden. Y’know, you’d thinkI’dbe the cynical one out of the two of us.”

She got ready to argue—but he was right. She was quiet for a while and finally just said, “I might have had a better life growing up…but at least you’ve escaped your old one.”

“You can, too. There’s nothing stopping you.”

Oh, there was plenty. But she was too damn tired to go there. Maybe later. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Think about it. I tried reconnecting with my dad—but I wanted to do it onmyterms. If things are so bad with you and your parents, why can’tyoudo that? You already live on your own. I assume you’re paying your own bills and shit. But it’s a decision you have to make, Sie. You have to choose to break away and stand firm.”

That was easier said than done—and she wasn’t about to debate this shit with a man who wasn’t going to be warming her bed permanently. “I thought men were supposed to get sleepy after sex.”

He was quiet for a bit—tooquiet.

Silent.

So she lifted her head, ready to apologize, ready to soothe him for her abrupt words—but when she met his eyes, there was a twinkle in them. “How many men you know get sleepy after sex?”

Swallowing, she scanned his dark eyes, looking for a hint of whatever was inside him. “None personally. I was just saying—”

“I’m fucking with you, Sierra. And I’m pretty good at reading a room.” He started to sit up and Sierra opened her mouth, ready to protest. God, she could be a real asshole sometimes. “I’m not gonna wear out my welcome.” As she sat up to join him, he took her face in his hands, but he only kissed her on the nose. “If you really want me over again, we’re here for a few more weeks. All you gotta do is call.”

And then he stood, picking up his jeans from the floor and slipping them on. Instead of watching him get dressed, Sierra stood and crossed to the closet, pulling the soft purple velvet robe out. She rarely wore it, usually just keeping the long t-shirt on until she showered every morning. This moment, however, was the perfect occasion for covering up.

Once more, Mickey was behaving strangely—but what had she expected? The man had professed love and she’d pushed him away. Well, not exactly. She’d asked him to reconsider—and, if he said something tomorrow, she’d have to be prepared to completely rebuff him.

“I can see myself out.”

“God, no. I’m coming with you.” Had she really hurt him? She couldn’t tell…but she wanted to offer an apology. Not with words, but with her actions. Without telling him she loved him back.

Even if she knew somewhere inside it was true.

In silence, they made their way out of her bedroom—and, as if he knew the conflict inside her, he took Sierra’s hand in his halfway down the stairs. Its warmth, its strength were reassuring, as if he was communicating to her that everything would be all right.

But how could it be?

When they got to the front door, Mickey said, “Good night, Sierra.” And then he took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly. Sweetly. In that kiss was a touch of melancholy, of acceptance.

Like he knew. Like he knew every fucking thing inside her head, her heart, and he was going to let her live with her decision.

It felt like a knife going into her chest with surgical precision, right toward the part that hurt the most.

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