Page 48 of Wedding Season
“Not much interest in it,” he told her. “You think you’ll get engaged again? Could you even consider another trip down the aisle?”
“Honestly, I can’t imagine it, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.”
“You wouldn’t want to pick me anyway,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he brought aluminum serving trays to the table. “I’m boring. And apparently too needy in relationships, which is crap but whatever.”
“Amber’s parting shots,” she murmured. “She blamed you because it made her feel like less of a jerk. The truth is she was a jerk.”
Alex didn’t look convinced, but it also didn’t seem like he wanted to linger on the subject.
Mariella had plenty of things she would prefer not to discuss so chose not to push it.
“You smell nice,” he said as they dished out the portions. “Not sure how that’s going to help you focus on eating, but if it works then more power to you.”
“It makes me feel better. I should have showered before now. Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to do this.”
She dipped her finger in the sauce that oozed across her plate and sucked it into her mouth. A glance at Alex, whose eyes had gone dark as he watched her, made her quickly wipe her finger on a napkin. She hadn’t meant for the gesture to be suggestive, but an answering heat pooled low in her belly.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Angi told me you were refusing visitors, but I had a feeling her ravioli would be too hard to resist.”
Mariella didn’t mention that the company was as irresistible as the food. As they ate, their conversation was easy and natural, which should have surprised her. At this point, virtually nothing about Alex surprised her because everything was unexpected.
She told him he didn’t have to stay to help clean up but he did. He was, quite possibly, the most even-keeled person she’d ever met. Given her past, Mariella found that incredibly appealing as she walked him to the door after the remnants of dinner had been put away.
Mariella realized she didn’t want him to leave. Not only did she want him to stay, but she wanted him in her bed.
She knew it couldn’t mean anything. Despite what Alex told her about not wanting to marry, he was a white-picket-fence kind of guy. She had no doubt he would meet some sweet small-town woman who’d help him get over Amber and the issues he harbored from the way his family didn’t seem to value him.
She tried not to think about how it would feel to watch him fall in love with someone else now that they had this strange and wonderful friendship thing going on.
Her life was better if she didn’t focus too much on the future or think about the past. Present moment. That was the safest, and in this moment, she wanted very much to be with this man.
She took his hand and tugged on it. When he turned back, she leaned in and kissed him. She tried not to put all the need she felt into the kiss. To have it be more of an open-ended question. He could choose to move forward, but if he backed away she would respect his decision. She wasn’t going to throw herself at somebody who didn’t want her.
To her great delight, he threaded his big hands through her hair and angled her head so that he had better access to her mouth. His tongue melded with hers, and he pulled her close as he continued to deepen the connection until their bodies were pressed together.
She pulled his shirt up and over his head, feeling that she might explode if she couldn’t get her hands on his skin.
He let out a ragged moan when she drew her fingernails over the hard planes of his shoulders.
As if he craved the feel of her skin with the same driving desire, he reached under her shirt and spread his hands over her back. When his teeth nipped at her earlobe, need spiraled through her with the force of a tornado. It threatened to undo the protective layers she’d fashioned into the foundation of her life, ripping through the segments like they were nothing more than a stack of children’s blocks.
“Bedroom,” she whispered, shocked when the word came out on a needy pant.
He let out a knowing chuckle when she all but sprinted down the hall, towing him along in her wake. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.
She glared at him over her shoulder but didn’t stop moving. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of the ‘in my pants’ answer.”
As they entered the bedroom, he stopped and spun her to face him. “I want you, Mariella.”
His hair was messed, his muscled chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths and his gaze a little wild as he studied her.
“Ditto,” she said then cringed. She sounded like a fool. She reached between them and cupped his erection through his jeans. “I get that in a big way. Emphasis on big.”
“Mariella.” He gently pulled her hand away from him and linked their fingers together. “I want to be with you.”
The words were simple, but the intensity in his voice lent more meaning to them, a gravity she hadn’t expected.
He liked her. She liked him. The heat between them was enough to warm the whole of the arctic during a long winter.
