Page 19 of Surviving Slater
He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked past me into the living room. Feeling more frustrated, I followed behind him. He was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. He was barefoot.
"Sit," he instructed. I eyed the sofa for a moment before I sat down, rubbing my sweating palms on my jeans to ease my nervousness.
He remained standing. I didn't like that I was forced to look up at him.
"Just say what you have to," I finally said, hating the suspense that was building up between us—the type of tension you could cut with a knife.
He remained silent as he studied me.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked softly. The tone of his voice made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle with awareness. It was unexpected.
"Stop playing games and get to the point." I crossed my arms.
"When I told you I couldn't dous, I wasn't trying to hurt you."
I pressed my lips firmly together to suppress the sharp pain I felt at the memory. Even if he hadn't meant to, he had. I uncrossed my arms and gripped the edge of the seat.
"I can't do emotional attachments," he continued, but I put my hand up to stop him as I stood up.
"I don't want to hear it," I told him. "I heard you the first time. I don't need a repeat."
"Don't," he said, stepping forward.
"What do you want from me?" I held both my hands out to him.
"Let me finish what I need to say," he said forcefully, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from snapping back at him.
He stepped forward. He was so close I just had to lift my hand to touch him. Fisting my hands beside me, I resisted the temptation to touch him.
"Telling you I couldn't be with you was easier…" That hurt. I turned to leave. "…than living it each day."
I stood still, with my back to him. I know he stepped closer because I could feel the heat from his body even though he wasn't touching me.
"Tell me you haven't been thinking about me."
I tightened my fisted hands again as I swallowed my nervousness. I didn't want to give in but I couldn't deny I had been haunted by the same thoughts. It was the attraction between the two of us. Like a lit fire, it continued to burn.
But my stubbornness refused to allow me to turn and face him. I was hanging on by a thread.
"Tell me you don't want me to touch you."
I closed my eyes briefly to fight against the instinct that wanted to follow his command. The feel of his warm breath whispered on the back of my neck, and I struggled against the tremor of need that ran through me.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
I wanted to. His lips brushed against my skin and I squeezed my eyes shut. My skin burned under his lips.
"You want me."
He trailed kisses down the side of my neck. For just a moment I leaned back into him, allowing myself to feel the power of the chemistry between us.
It would be so easy to give in and let it happen. I wanted to so badly. But the pain I had felt when he had walked away returned and I stepped forward, out of his reach.
I turned to face him, my breathing rapid as I tried to fight for control. I put my hands on my hips.
"You wanted me to come over for this?" I asked angrily.
"You can deny it all you want. I know you want me too." He said it so confidently.
